


Family Dynamics

by MarianneGreenleaf



Series: Building a History Together: Marriage and Children [24]
Category: The Music Man (1962), The Music Man - All Media Types, The Music Man - Willson
Genre: Big city dreams/escaping the farm, Clandestine canoodling, Edwardian era, F/M, Light angst with a fluffy ending, OC romance, Original Character-centric, Passion vs Propriety, Pillow Talk, Psychological Trauma, Sexual Politics, Unpacking emotional baggage, trouble with a capital t
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-13 00:17:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21485212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarianneGreenleaf/pseuds/MarianneGreenleaf
Summary: Now that Fred Gallup is happily married, his mother demands he bring his new wife to Thanksgiving. Harold and Marian come along, because it's not easy being the black sheep of the family, especially on a holiday.
Relationships: Fred Gallup/Lucy Dixon, Harold Hill/Marian Paroo
Series: Building a History Together: Marriage and Children [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/26565





	1. The Telegram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sequel to [Triumph of the Early Bird](https://archiveofourown.org/works/523112/chapters/925371).

_Fred laughed, and it felt like a weight off his shoulders that he was able to do so, even as painful as it was to recall his family’s reaction. “My mother came very close to disowning me after Bess married Henry Harper. And not just my mother – my sisters, too! I was banned from Easter dinner that year and every year thereafter, which suited me just fine. Though inexplicably, my mother continues to insist that I come home for Christmas and, ever the dutiful son, I accede to her wishes,” he sardonically concluded.  
_ _~Triumph of the Early Bird, Marianne Greenleaf_

XXX

_November 1916_

The trouble started with a telegram. Ever since Harold traveled to Des Moines a few years ago to meet with Fred Gallup in order to further disburse the Think System throughout the musical curricula of Iowa’s educational institutions, he and the reporter had kept in frequent contact.

Now that Fred had gotten over his jealousy by marrying a lovely actress and getting himself an exciting job as a traveling columnist for the arts, the two men finally managed to forge a solid friendship based on common interest and mutual respect. In his frequent travels across the country, the reporter dropped the music professor’s name to several people in the music education business, so he was always writing letters, forwarding columns, and sending telegrams to Harold that were cordial enough, though never about personal matters. But this particular telegram was odd:

PLEASE CALL COLLECT WITHOUT DELAY

While Fred was often terse in these communications in order to save money, Harold somehow had the hunch that the reporter was contacting him for a different reason than to discuss business.

This indeed proved to be the case when he placed the call to the operator that afternoon after band practice: “Great to hear from you, Professor Hill!” the reporter said cheerfully.

“At this point, Harold is just fine,” the music professor assured him.

“Harold,” he agreed. There was a brief pause. “Thank you for returning my call so promptly. I’d like to invite you, your wife, and daughters to Charleston, Iowa for Thanksgiving with my family. It’s been awhile since we’ve visited together, and Lucy and I would dearly love to meet your little girls.”

Harold hesitated, considering this rather unusual request. While they and their spouses had gotten along swimmingly during last year’s trip to Des Moines, Fred had yet to return to River City for a third visit. And now he was asking them to come to his hometown in order to meet his entire family? Something didn’t add up.

There was a long sigh on the other end of the line, as if Fred sensed his reticence. “Harold… I can count on one hand the number of people I’ve ever met who truly know me. My wife Lucy, my sister Fanny… and you. My mother never did, and she’s never forgiven me for not marrying Bess and staying in Charleston to inherit the farm. Even after Bess found someone who was a much better match for her, my mother took my staying single all these years as evidence that I was wallowing in regret, so she held out the foolish hope that someday, if Bess’s husband dies unexpectedly, we could reconcile. Now that I’ve utterly dashed her hopes by getting married to someone else, she’s not taking it very well. But I’ve got to bring Lucy home to meet the family at some point, and after three whole years of marriage I can’t put it off any longer. I thought that since you’re exceptionally good at persuading people, maybe… ” he trailed off, as if too embarrassed to continue.

“… I might be able to help smooth things over with your difficult-to-please mother,” Harold finished understandingly. “Or at the very least, provide a well-placed buffer so you and Lucy won’t take all the heat.”

“That’s it exactly,” Fred confirmed.

Harold could almost feel the man’s relief through the phone lines. Although he felt a great deal of gratitude for all the reporter had done for him and was leaning toward taking him up on his invitation, he still had a few reservations. “We wouldn’t be an imposition that would get you into further hot water?”

“Not at all,” Fred laughed. “When my mother heard you were good friends of mine, she downright demanded that I invite you. She never misses an opportunity to manage my social life, you see. That’s why she wants to meet Lucy, so she can disapprove of her in person. She excels at insulting anyone who doesn’t meet her standards, in the way that only the most well-bred Iowa stubborn lady can.” He sighed again. “I know I’m doing a horrible job selling this visit to you. But I never was a very good salesman.”

“Well, it doesn’t sound like the most pleasant way to spend a Thanksgiving,” Harold admitted. “But you’ve done so many favors for me over the past few years, I’d be pleased to do one for you. If I can help you with this delicate situation in any way, I’ll do my darnedest. Let me discuss your invitation with Marian, and I’ll let you know our plans straightaway.”

XXX

“Well, that’s quite the challenge,” Marian observed when Harold told her about the phone call. “But if anyone can win over an ‘Iowa stubborn’ woman, it’s certainly you!”

He relaxed, relieved that they saw eye to eye on the matter. Still, this was not going to be an easy venture, and he wanted to ensure her comfort, first and foremost. “So you’re not opposed to us visiting the Gallups for Thanksgiving, despite the potential for social embarrassment?”

She shook her head. “I’m just as pleased as you to help the man who’s so generously spread the Think System across the country. And I’ve wanted to see Lucy again. Now that Penny and Elly are out of diapers and old enough to start minding their manners, traveling with them shouldn’t be too much trouble. Mama and Winthrop will miss us, of course, but I’m sure they’ll understand.”

Harold grinned and gave her a grateful kiss. “Thank you for being in my corner, darling.”

“I’m always in your corner,” the librarian averred. “And I’ve never seen your silver tongue fail to persuade anyone, in the end. After everything we’ve been through in River City, how bad could this visit possibly be?”

Although the music professor was also confident in his ability to charm, he couldn’t help chuckling nervously. “Well, let’s not tempt fate by asking.”


	2. The Arrival

Fred Gallup sighed as he gazed at the endless cornfields flashing by outside of the train window. He hadn’t felt this out of sorts since that fateful Easter Sunday in 1913 when he traveled to River City on a gambit that he knew deep down was going to be nothing more than a fool’s errand. He had similar misgivings about this trip to his hometown, because he knew exactly what he was walking into.

Out of a sense of duty, the reporter had written a letter to his mother informing her of his marriage to Lucy Dixon shortly after they’d eloped to Niagara Falls, and he also told her about his new job as a traveling columnist for the arts. In response, his mother promptly sent a letter that was her signature brand of congratulatory and reproachful. While she was thrilled that her son had finally settled down and expressed surprisingly few qualms about his marrying an actress (he presumed her hopes that he would finally give her grandchildren trumped any considerations as to his wife’s lack of pedigree), she was not happy that he hadn’t brought his intended home to be married in their parlor, like his three sisters were. She also requested a visit as soon as he could arrange it, but he was able to beg off due to the demands of his new job. While his mother was disgruntled by his postponement – to her mind, the wishes of family should always come before the demands of employers, especially “big city” bosses that took him so far away – she didn’t press the matter. He was actually surprised he had gotten away with three whole years of no visits and, when his mother finally issued the ultimatum that he come home for Thanksgiving upon pain of disownment if he didn’t, he thought it wise to acquiesce.

However, relations between Fred and his family had deteriorated to the point where he dreaded going home, even before he met Lucy. His father died when he was in his mid-twenties, and his mother had never remarried. She simply transferred the management of the family farm to her daughters and their husbands, and spent her time being a doting grandmother and unopposed ruler of the roost. According to his favorite sister Fanny, one of their mother’s preferred pastimes was still bemoaning that her only son had up and left town, instead of marrying and supplying her with grandkids and farm labor, as a good son ought. Apparently, it wasn’t enough that Anna and Susan had done just as she wanted, yoking themselves to local farmers who brought even more land to the family and subsequently birthing a passel of children to work it. Fanny had also acquiesced to their mother’s wishes to some extent, though she wasn’t quite as favored as the others because she wed a tailor in town and had only one son, a quiet dreamer who was already developing glimmers of the same dangerous wanderlust that had lured his uncle away from home.

Fred knew he was going to have to explain his long absence to his family in more detail when he got to Charleston, but he still didn’t regret his actions. Though Lucy never would have said so, he knew she wasn’t exactly thrilled about spending time in a place that was the same kind of provincial, stifling farm town she grew up in and couldn’t wait to escape. It also didn’t help matters that his mother’s missives to Fred were full of information about Bess Harper. While he certainly didn’t wish his former fiancée ill and would always remember her with fondness, it was a bit much to read the constant paeans to her and her large brood, especially now that he was happily married to another woman.

Thankfully, for the first time in his life, the reporter wasn’t alone on this trip. Not only was Lucy sitting next to him and giving his arm affectionate squeezes from time to time, Harold and Marian Hill were also nearby, along with their delightfully precocious daughters. As the librarian was wholly occupied in preventing the children from getting too restless and causing a public disturbance, Fred informed his wife and the music professor what they could expect upon their arrival to his family’s home:

“They mean well and are perfectly hospitable, but their overbearing thoughtlessness can be hard to take after a while in their company. They have a difficult time understanding why anyone would ever want to live outside of Charleston – you’re likely to be curious and amusing oddities to them, like the gifts I bring back from my travels.”

Lucy gave him an arch grin. “An actress and a traveling salesman turned music professor being curious and amusing oddities, imagine that!”

“I’ve passed through many tiny towns whose citizens thought the world began and ended at their borders,” Harold assured him. “I have a pretty good idea of what we’re getting ourselves into.”

While their confidence didn’t fully take away the roiling feeling in the pit of Fred’s stomach, it helped soothe his disquiet enough for him to eat a decent lunch and keep his strength up for the long and tiring journey ahead. Because Charleston did not have a train station for passengers, they were going to have to get off at the Winfield stop, spend the night at the local inn, and then travel another 45 miles to reach the town via streetcar. His mother had informed him that she was expecting them for a pre-Thanksgiving welcome dinner at two o’clock sharp on Wednesday afternoon, and this was the only way to ensure they’d arrive on time. They were to stay until Saturday, the shortest possible interval he could manage to bargain without causing too much upset. And he had to promise to come for another, longer visit on Christmas to get away with less than a week this time around.

XXX

Fred’s spirits were further lifted when the inn turned out to be both comfortable and charming, and he spent a warm and cozy night with Lucy beneath the sheets. As much as he dreaded reaching their destination, he was still supremely happy with the way his life had turned out, and he was very much in love with his wife. While he had long stopped letting his family’s quaint opinions dictate his thoughts or actions, he dearly hoped they took a shine to Lucy. Otherwise, it would be impossible for him to see them at all. While he wouldn’t miss his mother’s, Anna’s, and Susan’s constant criticisms, he would regret the loss of Fanny and his nieces and nephews.

“Whatever happens, remember that you’re my home, and you always will be,” he whispered to Lucy as the sun came up and they only had minutes until it was time to disentangle themselves from their snug cocoon of blankets.

“And you’re _my_ home,” she said staunchly, wrapping her arms around his neck and giving him such an avid kiss that he just didn’t have it him to get out of bed. They had gone to bed completely bare and stayed that way the whole night – the feel of her warm breasts against his chest and her silky thighs wrapped around his hips was his idea of heaven on earth. As it was likely the most privacy they were going to have for the next several days, he had no compunction in prolonging their interlude.

It wasn’t until Harold discreetly knocked on their door fifteen minutes before they were due to catch their streetcar that husband and wife managed to rouse themselves from their lovely stupor. Fortunately, the reporter and actress were experts at making themselves presentable quickly, and were ready to go with five minutes to spare.

As the streetcar chugged its way into Charleston, Fred had to repress a grimace. It was such a provincial place that it made River City look like a bustling metropolis. He was almost embarrassed to take Lucy and the Hills here – the population was merely 65, boasting only three churches, a public school, a post office, a hotel, a general store, a freight depot, and a smattering of telegraph offices and telephone connections. It didn’t help matters that it was a blustery, overcast day, with the threat of an impending downpour thickening the atmosphere and dampening their clothes and hair. Fred gritted his teeth as he helped Lucy disembark from the streetcar and gather their luggage for the fifteen-minute walk still ahead of them. The wind was awfully harsh and, in the vast open landscape, there was nothing to temper its chill.

XXX

Fortunately, the bedraggled troop managed to make it almost all the way up to the front door of his childhood home before as the heavens opened and unleashed their fury.

Out of long habit, Harold took stock of their surroundings, in case the information would prove useful later. The farmhouse Fred’s family lived in was very old and almost whimsically sprawling, with many wings protruding amoeba-like into the vast acreage that surrounded them. The original structure had been added on to several times over the generations – clearly, the Gallups were prosperous in their livelihood, and an economic force to be reckoned with in the tiny town.

In the driving rain, Harold wasn’t able to make any additional observations regarding the rest of the property and, in any case, the door was soon thrown open and they were ushered inside with great alacrity by a gaggle of women. From their looks alone, he deduced it was Mrs. Gallup and all three of her daughters.

It was patently obvious as to which of the ladies was Fred’s mother. Rachel Gallup was a plump, stout, grandmotherly woman – the epitome of the sweet little old lady, or so she appeared. While the music professor couldn’t discern between Anna and Susan, he immediately picked out Fanny, just from the way she and her brother regarded each other. While his other two sisters smiled but were slightly standoffish in their manner, Fanny and Fred exchanged a look of mutual affection and affinity.

“It’s about time you all arrived!” Mrs. Gallup chided in a good-natured manner. “You’ve completely missed breakfast.”

Fred stiffened. “Your letter instructed we should arrive in time for dinner,” he pointed out, his tone scrupulously courteous.

Anna and Susan frowned while Fanny looked uneasy, but they all relaxed when his mother chortled and waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, but that wasn’t a hard and fast rule, my dear boy! You still could have come for breakfast, if you wanted.”

Fred grinned, but Harold could tell it wasn’t genuine, as it didn’t reach his eyes. “Well then, we will certainly keep that in mind the next time we visit.”

Fortunately, only Fanny seemed to realize her brother’s true mood, and expediently drew Anna and Susan away to help with Penny and Elly – who were now fidgeting and starting to whine – by removing their coats and bringing them to play with all the other children presently tearing around the house.

“Well, let me get a look at the woman my son married!” Mrs. Gallup said, taking Lucy’s hand in hers and pulling her closer. Most women would have been put off by such an overwhelming invasion of their personal space, but the actress clearly had a great deal of practice in handling effusiveness from strangers. Doing the matron one better, she warmly grasped her mother-in-law’s hand, leaned in, and kissed her on the cheek. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you! I’ve so been looking forward to this visit.”

Mrs. Gallup looked both pleased and stunned, as if she wasn’t expecting such a warm welcome, but appreciated it all the same. “My, you are a pretty little thing! I wish my son had seen fit to send us a picture of you – you don’t look a thing like I imagined my son’s wife would. Freddie always eyed the blonde, willowy girls in school.”

Although Fred cringed at his mother’s well-meaning but tone-deaf assessments, Lucy merely laughed as if she was utterly charmed. “So he’s told me! Which makes me feel particularly special, knowing he chose little old _me_.”

Harold had to smother a laugh. Lucy was such a consummate professional at charming people, Fred might not need his help, after all.

Indeed, Mrs. Gallup eyed her daughter-in-law approvingly and simpered, “Oh, but you are a doll! I can certainly see why my son chose you – you outshine nearly all of his old classmates’ charms by a mile. And Freddie mentioned in one of his letters that you were an actress once?”

“Yes, I am,” Lucy said smoothly, as if nothing was amiss. “I just finished a run of _The Merry Wives of Windsor_ in Kalamazoo two weeks ago.”

Mrs. Gallup looked scandalized. “You mean you’re _still_ an actress? Does Freddie not earn a sufficient living for you to retire? Because you’ll certainly have to when children start coming along!”

At that, Lucy’s smile froze and Fred aimed a pleading look at Harold, who promptly let out a loud sneeze.

The ruse worked perfectly. Mrs. Gallup turned toward the music professor and exclaimed, “God bless you, sir!”

“Mother, allow me to introduce my very good friends,” Fred insisted, before she could recover from the derailment. “This is Harold Hill and his wife Marian. Their daughters are Penny and Elly, who are now under the expert care of my sisters.”

Mrs. Gallup looked too awed to speak for a moment. But then she murmured, “You’re the ‘Curies of the music world’ that my son wrote about!”

“What a wonderful memory you have, Mrs. Gallup,” Harold complimented, as that article was at least four years old now. And his grin genuinely reached his eyes, for this appellation no longer stung – indeed, after he and Marian were married, he adopted it and used it in much of his advertising.

“And here is the willowy blonde I expected!” Mrs. Gallup said with a twinkle in her eyes as she took Marian’s hand in hers. “I’m surprised that my Freddie didn’t go after _you_, my dear.”

The truth of the matter was that the reporter had considered that course of action once upon a time, but nobody who knew the story was about to reveal it to his mother. As Fred was now looking openly put-upon and Lucy was biting her lip as if she was trying not to burst into laughter, it was up to the Hills to steer the conversation into safer waters, which Marian did with both grace and aplomb. “If he did have such inclinations, I certainly never knew of them. Your son was the perfect gentleman when we first met, as my heart was already given to Professor Hill at the time.”

Fortunately, Mrs. Gallup was far too diverted by the turn the discussion had taken to pay her embarrassed son any mind. “Freddie mentioned you were a librarian – don’t tell me that you haven’t retired, either!”

“Of course I haven’t retired,” Marian said brightly, perhaps a little too brightly. She was well used to such censure as she still encountered it in River City from time to time, but Harold knew it always set her teeth on edge, though of course she was too well-bred to do anything but smile and respectfully maintain her position on the matter. “I simply couldn’t give up such a wonderful opportunity to enrich our children’s minds.”

“That’s all well and good,” Mrs. Gallup conceded, “but aren’t your own children’s minds the most important, now that you’re a mother?”

Marian inclined her head in acknowledgment, but replied, “Be that as it may, I’m the only one with the proper credentials to maintain River City’s library.”

Mrs. Gallup gaped at her. “But with a husband and two girls and a household to run, how on earth do you find the time?”

Remembering an occasion when her son pursued a similar line of inquiry with the librarian for a rather unsavory motive, Harold sneaked a glance at Fred. As much as he sympathized with his friend’s plight, he was not altogether displeased to see the reporter’s rueful and apologetic expression as he watched this exchange.

“Oh, I manage,” Marian laughed, without elaborating further. Ever since that eventful Easter afternoon, the librarian had become quite skillful at dodging the issue with people who simply couldn’t understand.

But Mrs. Gallup was relentless. “And what does your husband think of your working outside the home?”

Although Marian was managing to hold her own just fine, Harold decided it was high time he intervened. “Well Mrs. Gallup,” he said amiably, wrapping his arm around his wife in a gesture of support and union, “I married my wife _for_ her credentials, not in spite of them. The Think System would not have been possible without her expertise. Nor would my career as a music professor.”

Marian beamed at him, while Fred and Lucy regarded him with gratitude. Mrs. Gallup also smiled at the music professor, but Harold could see the wheels turning in the matron’s mind, as if she wasn’t entirely sure how to digest such unorthodox notions. But then she laughed in the slightly skeptical, condescending manner of the woman who didn’t quite approve of something but was determined to be polite about it. “Well, I think it’s lovely that you give your wife so much credit for your success! But then again, Freddie has a similar generosity of spirit – he insisted that without his sweetheart Bess’s encouragement, he never would have written the march that won him an important contest.”

Although Lucy looked unperturbed by her mother-in-law’s rather inconsiderate phrasing as to her son’s former fiancée, Fred winced. But he quickly smoothed his features into a nonchalant expression before interjecting, “Mother, we’d like to freshen up before dinner. Could we continue this conversation after getting settled?”

Mrs. Gallup looked annoyed, but like her son, she was a master of rapidly concealing her discontent. “Yes, of course, why didn’t you say so sooner? You’re soaked through and shouldn’t spend another minute in those wet clothes, you’ll catch your death of cold! You and Lucy will be staying in your old bedroom – I had it renovated into a guest chamber right after you sent word you were married. I’m sure you remember the way to it, even though you haven’t been home for a good three harvests now. I’ll show the Hills to their room – they’ll be in the guest house just across the way, as _they’ve_ got children to mind.” Tossing a wink at her son and daughter-in-law, she turned and motioned for Harold and Marian to follow her down one of the long corridors connected to the vestibule.

Fortunately, they didn’t have to go back out into the downpour, as the guest house was accessible through a long, thin interior passage from the main house. And there was no further interrogation to weather as the music professor and librarian trailed behind the matron – she hummed happily as they walked, undoubtedly reveling in having gotten in the last word of their exchange.

But what Mrs. Gallup didn’t know, while Harold and Marian did, was that Lucy _had_ given birth to a stillborn son during her first marriage, and was since rendered unable to have any more children. Clearly, Fred had not yet divulged this dicey news, and it certainly wasn’t Harold’s place to disabuse her of the notion that she’d eventually be a grandmother of this particular branch of the family. Even worse, this was one of those rare cases where there was absolutely nothing he could say that would soften the blow when it finally came. And when it did come, it was going to be horribly devastating. From the worried looks Marian was giving him, he knew she was also well aware of this untenable quandary they now found themselves in. But there was nothing they could do except let events take their natural course, whatever it may be.

So as Mrs. Gallup ferried them to their accommodations, Harold mashed his lips together. He had the unpleasant feeling that he was going to be doing a lot of that during this visit.


	3. The Quilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fred unpacks some baggage, and it isn't his suitcase.

_Familiar, why is this so familiar?_  
_Familiar, like something I used to know_  
_Familiar, staring up at the ceiling_  
_Familiar, I swear that I know this feeling_  
_Where everybody wants me to be mom_  
_And everything I do, I do it wrong_  
_I’ll sway them with a joke, or with a song_  
_And maybe that’ll help us get along_  
_~Familiar, Steven Universe_

XXX

Fred plunked his and Lucy’s suitcases on the floor and let out a sigh. As his mother grandly informed them all, she had indeed renovated his old bedroom into a guestroom. But she neglected to mention that she had also taken this opportunity to create a veritable shrine to her absent son. Piles of inconsequential bric-a-brac from his childhood cluttered the walls, shelves, and furniture surfaces, and absolutely all of it was stuff that he’d deliberately chosen to leave behind, as it reminded him too much of the simple farmer he was expected to be. And what’s more, everything was arranged in such a devoted and meticulous manner that it was no doubt calculated to stir the maximum amount of filial guilt within him.

However, it did amuse the reporter to note that, for all his mother’s pride in the Gallup homestead’s recent modernizations, there was still no indoor plumbing. A pitcher and basin rested on the bureau for washing up, and they would have to go to the outhouse in the pouring rain to relieve themselves. If they wanted an actual bath during their visit, they’d have to borrow the wooden washtub from the kitchen. And if his mother was still as stingy about hot water as she was when he was a boy, he and his wife would be expected to share this bath with the entire family. Given his fully cemented position as black sheep, he probably wouldn’t be allowed to use the tub first.

While Fred was used to making do with substandard accommodations, it irked him how rustic his boyhood home was. _This_ was the sorry little place that his mother deemed ought to be the pinnacle of his career ambitions, his heaven on earth?

Lucy went over to the large framed quilt completely covering the west wall. It was made in the pattern of a musical score, and the actress traced each note with her finger as she hummed the tune. “Is this your march, darling? It’s charming!”

“Huh… I wondered where that old thing went,” Fred mused, deliberately deflecting her question. Even after three whole years of marriage, he’d never gotten around to playing her the march that won him a college scholarship. There were too many painful memories surrounding that tune, and he preferred to leave them firmly in the past, where they belonged.

But as they were standing smack dab in the middle of his boyhood room, he couldn’t avoid the subject any longer. Especially not when Lucy looked him squarely in the eye and said, “Fred, _please_ talk to me.”

So he let out a long sigh, slumped his shoulders, and told her everything. “It is my march. My sister Fanny made this quilt as a gift to me, and my mother promptly commandeered it.” His fists clenched, and he struggled to keep his voice level. “Back then, I was foolish enough to complain, though it did me little good, of course. _It’s the family’s accomplishment as much as yours_, she said. _Me and your father are the ones who brought you into the world, how dare you be so selfish in not giving us our due_, she said. But my father didn’t care, it was all her idea. I would have actually liked to use the quilt, but Mother said it was too precious to wrinkle. Instead, she had it framed and hung in the parlor to gather dust.”

Lucy poked the quilt and sneezed at the cloud of dust that emerged. “Yes, it’s _awfully_ dusty, for being displayed so reverently.”

“Reverently, indeed!” Fred snorted. “I wasn’t allowed to take it to college, even though it was supposed to commemorate my entry into higher education. When I flunked out and fled to Des Moines, Mother went into a huge snit and took it down. It was gone from the parlor when I next came back for a visit, and never displayed again. By then, I’d learned not to ask for anything that I knew I wasn’t going to get.” He paused to modulate the intensity of his tone, which had grown scathingly acerbic. “After all the fuss she kicked up over keeping the damn thing, it’s almost insulting to see it hanging here in my old room now, when it no longer matters to me.”

Realizing he’d said far too much, and that he hadn’t been at all charitable in his summary of events, Fred snapped his mouth shut and braced himself for the coming onslaught. Lucy would surely attempt to justify his mother’s zeal, to scold him that she _means well_, as everyone else had done his whole life. Even Fanny, the one who made him the quilt in the first place, had gently chided him for being less than gracious over their mother’s confiscation of his gift. His favorite sister did that sometimes, in a well-intentioned attempt to smooth things over, and it always made him feel ten times worse about both the situation and himself. Even though Fanny didn’t quite understand the allure of the city, she had never made him feel like a traitor to his family for wanting to leave Charleston. She even encouraged him to continue following his dreams when their father refused to pay for college after he lost his scholarship. So if the one person who usually took his side was remonstrative, then perhaps he _was_ in the wrong, after all.

But to his astonishment, Lucy gave him a deeply sympathetic look and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m so sorry, Fred. That was _your_ quilt, and she had no right to take it from you.” When he goggled at her, she explained, “I know what it’s like. My mother also took things of mine that she wanted, and excelled at disguising her own selfishness as a virtue.” Her voice hardened in exactly the same way as his had. “My father always urged me to let it go. When everyone takes _her_ side, even the ones who love you best, you start feeling like the selfish and unreasonable one. Even if you aren’t.”

Fred trembled as her hands traced soothing lines up and down his back – perversely, he felt himself losing even more control. Lucy had responded exactly the way he hadn’t dared to expect but still desperately hoped she would, so why was he breaking down now? Marshalling the iron will that had sustained him through many an uncomfortable conversation, he swallowed the lump that had massed in his throat and soldiered on. “Until one day, somebody comes along and they _do_ understand, and the hurt finally starts to fade because that’s all you really wanted, just a little consideration.” He buried his face in her raven curls and inhaled her comforting jasmine scent. “Thank you, Lucy.”

The ensuing companionable silence between them was just what Fred needed to fully recover his composure. After his breathing steadied, Lucy let out a lovely, low laugh and said, “I noticed that dear old mumsy-in-law seemed to take a bit of a shine to me, even if she didn’t quite approve of my career. Would you like me to charm her into giving us the quilt?”

Fred laughed with real joy and tightened his arms around his pearl of a wife. “No, that dusty old blanket can stay right where it is and rot.” He kissed her sweetly. “I’ve already got everything I ever wanted, right here.”

XXX

By coincidence, Harold and Marian reached the parlor at exactly the same time as Fred and Lucy. But they barely had the opportunity to hail each other in greeting, as the four of them were promptly swarmed by a horde of children. Although the kids were mainly excited to see their Uncle Fred – and dig into the heaping satchel of gifts he’d brought for them – they peppered each of the strangers with questions. By virtue of their professions, both the band leader and librarian handled their childish curiosity with ease, and Lucy also proved that she was just as adept at socializing with juveniles as she was with grownups.

As soon as the children found out that their new aunt was an actress and singer, they clamored for a concert. At first, Anna and Susan looked scandalized by such an idea. But when Lucy confidently took a seat at the piano and performed a flawless and rollicking rendition of _Tea for Two_, they ended up gazing at their sister-in-law with spellbound rapture right along with the children, and actually joined everyone else in pleading for an encore. So Lucy launched into Beethoven’s _Moonlight Sonata_, which she played with both passion and skill.

Even Mrs. Gallup paused in her ceaseless toil in the kitchen to listen to Lucy’s performance, and she wiped tears from her eyes upon its completion. “If Freddie had played anything like _you_ as a boy, I would’ve understood why he wanted to give up farming to be a music man.”

Lucy gave her mother-in-law the most dazzling of smiles, as if she couldn’t be more flattered by this left-handed compliment. Harold shot a glance at the reporter to gauge his reaction, and was relieved to note that he looked surprisingly unruffled. Indeed, he seemed more amused than anything else.

“I’m so pleased that you appreciate my wife’s talents,” Fred said graciously. “It’s absolutely true that between the two of us, she has the lion’s share of musical ability.”

While the others laughed good-naturedly, Mrs. Gallup looked pleased but skeptical, as if she suspected her son was mocking her in some way, but couldn’t quite figure out how. When he didn’t wilt under her piercing gaze and continued regarding her with a benign smile, she sighed and said, “Well, be that as it may, that’s enough playing for now. Dinner will be ready in just a moment.”

As Anna and Susan hastened to assist their mother and Fanny shepherded the kids into the kitchen, the rest of the adults headed toward the dining room. Harold wordlessly clapped Fred on the shoulder just before they took their seats at the table. The music professor had the uneasy sense that beneath the reporter’s unflappable exterior, his equanimity was lot more a brittle than he was letting on, and whatever happened next, he wanted him to know that he was firmly in his corner.


	4. The Disaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Gallup continues to put the “fun” in dysfunction.

_I guess I’ll have to face_  
_That in this awful place_  
_I shouldn’t show a trace of doubt_  
_But pulled against the grain_  
_I feel a little pain_  
_That I would rather do without_  
_I’d rather be free from here_  
_~Escapism, Steven Universe_

XXX

Dinner started out harmlessly enough. The food was just as excellent as Fred remembered – one of the few bright spots of his childhood was that his mother was never stingy in laying out a toothsome table, and even when times were lean she ensured that her children never wanted for sustenance. He also observed that his mother was particularly solicitous of Lucy’s, Marian’s, and Harold’s comfort, and it pleased him that her inquiries as to whether their accommodations were adequate seemed to stem from an earnest desire to live up to the ideals of sacred hospitality. The reporter was already disposed to be charitable in his assessments of a person’s behavior when he surmised it was truly well-meaning, and Lucy’s demonstration of support regarding the quilt earlier had evaporated a great deal of his lingering resentment. He was also pleased when his wife and friends assured his mother that they couldn’t be more comfortable. Harold, of course, was the most charming and complimentary of the group, but he would have behaved that way even if they’d been housed in a hovel.

At first, conversation consisted of the trivial but pleasant banalities people tend to exchange when they are primarily focused on eating an excellent meal placed before them. Admittedly, Fred did not often enjoy such delicious home-cooked fare in the nomadic life he’d chosen, so he was perfectly content to let the idle chatter float around him as he relished the contents of his plate, even after the talk turned to a bit more substantial – and juicy – local gossip. But he was brought back to his present surroundings with a very unpleasant jolt when his mother, who’d been gazing fondly around her table, looking lofty and self-satisfied as any queen holding court, suddenly declared:

“Families are getting so _small_, nowadays. A proper family ought to have at least three children – if God wills it. But more and more ladies seem to be stopping at merely one or two, and on purpose! I just can’t understand why any woman would want so few children. What does she suppose marriage is for?”

Fred hadn’t quite followed the thread of discussion that led to this provocative statement, but he suspected it arose out of condemnation of some feminine neighbor who had failed to reproduce to his mother’s satisfaction. He immediately surveyed everyone else at the table to gauge their reaction. While Anna and Susan nodded in firm agreement, their husbands were quietly eating their dinner and resolutely _not_ paying attention to the conversation. Fanny looked embarrassed but resigned to such maternal disapproval. Lucy was smiling but her eyes had narrowed in a way that Fred knew was ire. It was Marian’s reaction that made him cringe the most – the librarian had that cold and haughty look she always donned whenever she was in the presence of an adversary, the queenly mask she retreated behind whenever someone said something that struck too close to her heart for comfort. Fred felt a rush of horrified sympathy as he realized just what kind of loss she must have experienced for her to look so stricken by such censorious words. Even though he was no longer infatuated, he still liked and respected her as a dear friend, and that his own mother’s indelicacy had wounded her both embarrassed and infuriated him. As for Harold, his arm had stolen around his wife’s waist and, while he was not openly frowning, he was no longer grinning.

“Not all women want children, mother,” Fred said through gritted teeth, struggling to keep his tone level. “Or men, for that matter.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of that!” his mother scoffed. “It’s yet another sign of the degeneracy nowadays. Things are just as the Bible said would happen in the end times: _For behold, the days are coming when they will say, ‘Blessed are the barren and the wombs that never bore and the breasts that never nursed!’_”

“Mother, that’s enough!” he snapped, at the end of his patience.

His mother looked at him with stunned and affronted eyes, as if he’d physically struck her. “What have I done, Freddie? Are you so eaten up by the hedonism of city living that you take offense to the Bible?”

Fred bristled at her complete – and to him willful – lack of understanding. He would have opened his mouth and let her have it, but a quelling hand pressed on his arm.

As ever, it was Fanny, dutifully trying to keep the peace between them all. After acknowledging his sister with the briefest of glances, he turned to regard his wife, whose opinion mattered to him above anyone else’s at that table. Though Lucy looked just as mutinous as he felt, she shook her head. So he swallowed the surge of renewed resentment and said like a penitent schoolboy forced to write lines, “Of course I’m not offended by the Bible, mother. I’m sorry if that’s the impression you got from what I said. I can only speak for myself, but I do not find it palatable dinner conversation to discuss the shortage of children in today’s families.” He paused, casting about for a subject that would be much safer to talk about. “How were this year’s crop yields?”

Normally, his mother would have graciously changed the subject at the opening he so helpfully provided. But when her frown only deepened once he concluded his apologetic little speech, Fred realized that she was no longer used to having her opinions challenged by _anyone_ in her home – least of all her black-sheep son. For the first time since his arrival, he sincerely regretted staying away for so long, if only for the lost opportunity to remind his blinkered family that there were other perspectives in the world besides theirs. For in the absence of any dissent whatsoever, his mother had become a veritable tyrant of her territory.

Indeed, Mrs. Gallup was determined to be cantankerous and unforgiving until she’d gotten her pound of flesh for his infraction. “Why would _you_ care about our farm’s crop yields? You haven’t been home for three whole years! You wouldn’t stay to look after the farm properly as a son ought, and you have the gumption to ask about crop yields _now_?”

Fred could find nothing to say to that. How was it that everywhere else he went in the world, he was a skilled reporter who was never at a loss for words – indeed, he excelled at charming strangers and wringing confessions out of the most recalcitrant interviewees – but when he came back to the Gallup homestead, he was once again reduced to behaving like a sullen and naughty little boy? He despised this feeling, he was much too old to be treated this way, and he wished he’d never returned to this wretched little one-horse town.

Naturally, his mother took his silence as an admission of guilt. “Another sign of the degeneracy of the age,” she nodded, secure in her own rightness. “Children are so terribly outspoken nowadays. It wasn’t at all like this when _I_ was a girl. Back then, we respected our elders, and if we were foolish enough to disagree with them, we stayed quiet!”

“Mother… Fred was just trying to make conversation,” Fanny piped up timidly. “Just because he didn’t want to be a farmer doesn’t mean that he stopped caring about us.”

Mrs. Gallup glared at her. “Oh, don’t you go taking his side again!”

“The pair of them was always thick as thieves,” Anna put in, likewise glaring at them. Susan nodded vigorously.

“Indeed, they are,” Mrs. Gallup sighed. She looked imploringly at her son. “Why do you always treat me as if I’ve done something wrong?”

As Anna and Susan promptly cooed assurances that she was the kindest and most thoughtful of mothers, Fanny wilted into silence. Despite his disappointment, Fred couldn’t blame her for retreating – he knew from long and thankless experience that it would do no good for her to argue any further on his behalf. Meanwhile, Lucy was biting her lip – whether to stop herself from bursting into laughter or launching into a blistering tirade, he wasn’t sure. Marian’s expression remained frozen in a look of icy civility, and Harold’s jaw was twitching the way it did whenever he got caught in a situation he couldn’t easily talk his way out of.

And so, in her infuriatingly ineffable way, his mother had singlehandedly routed every single one of his allies. And she compounded her victory by declaring, “A thankless child really is sharper than a serpent’s tooth, as the Bible says.”

“I believe Shakespeare said that,” Lucy pointed out, her tone polite but her eyes hard, finally at the end of her forbearance. Fred’s heart leaped up. Perhaps they were not so defeated, after all…

“As a librarian, I can confirm that’s indeed correct,” Marian agreed, having the grace to sound regretful about having to commit the faux pas of correcting a most gracious hostess.

“Well, it sounds like something the Bible _should_ have said,” his mother maintained, giving a sniff that seemed downright exaggerated to Fred, but still quashed their inclination to argue further. While his mother prided herself on being a simple and straightforward farmer’s wife, she was not at all above engaging in a little performance artistry to get the results she desired in any social situation.

Thankfully, Harold proved his mettle by intervening masterfully. “Mrs. Gallup, this dinner was one of the most delicious meals I’ve ever had the privilege to eat. And did I see a blueberry pie cooling on the windowsill? It smells marvelous!”

To Fred’s relief, the music professor succeeded where the son failed: Mrs. Gallup gave him a wobbly but appreciative smile. “Thank you kindly, Professor Hill. It’s a family recipe, and Anna baked the pie. I would have done it myself, but with my arthritis flaring up, I couldn’t manage everything in the kitchen today.”

Unlike the theatrical sniffle, there was a genuine discomfiture in his mother’s voice that piqued Fred’s sympathy, and he even felt a bit chastened by his behavior, which in light of this new information seemed just a little too ungracious for comfort. His mother had always taken great pride in her domestic skills, and this loss of stamina couldn’t have been easy to endure. But such kindly feelings fled when Susan looked daggers at him and hissed so only he could hear, “You’d know this if you came home more often.”

Not wanting to start another argument but refusing to let such rudeness go unacknowledged, Fred raised a nonchalant eyebrow at his pathetic sycophant of a sister – Anna was their mother’s true favorite and they both knew it – and looked away before she could retort. Of all his sisters, Susan particularly loathed his cool dismissal of her bossy recriminations, and it gave him just as much satisfaction to get her goat now as it did when he was a boy. He smothered a smirk when he could feel her eyes burning angrily into him as he pretended to be riveted by Harold’s skillful flattery of their dear mother. No doubt his sister was doubly furious that she could no longer unleash her vitriol upon him – if she attempted to say anything more, she’d be the one who was castigated for speaking out of turn and ruining a perfectly pleasant conversation.

Blissfully ignorant of the acrid exchange between sister and brother – or perhaps she was merely pretending to be – Mrs. Gallup continued to Harold, “My girls learned everything they know in the kitchen from me.”

“We did,” Anna confirmed in the proudly obsequious tone of a cherished teacher’s pet. “And we’ll pass everything down to our own daughters.”

Mrs. Gallup beamed at her. “Anna my dove, you’re my sweetest girl.”

Susan’s face fell a bit, but she valiantly rallied. “But she could never bake a pie as wonderfully as _you_, mother. None of us could.”

Fred had to smother a snort when Anna shot an annoyed look at her sister, which their mother either did not or would not notice. “Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself, dear,” Mrs. Gallup gently reproved, patting her second-eldest daughter on the arm. “Neither of you can bake so well as I can. My mother made better pies than me, as did her mother before her. It’s the rightful order of things. But I couldn’t be more blessed to be your mother, as you and Anna have always tried your hardest to do right, just as you were raised. As a mother, that’s all I’ve ever asked of any of my children.” She aimed a pointed look in her son’s direction. (As usual during these familial spats, Fanny had ceased to exist – and to the reporter’s relief, she looked more grateful than hurt to be excluded from her mother’s attention on this particular occasion.)

Fred couldn’t take another moment of watching every single one of his friends and loved ones wilt beneath his mother’s endless stream of opinions, criticisms, and litanies of woe. “Excuse me,” he said, pushing his seat back. “I need some air.”

XXX

As soon as it was polite to so – and as soon as he was certain that Marian’s temper had cooled to the point where she would be all right with his absence – Harold excused himself from the table. He was a bit surprised that Lucy hadn’t followed her husband’s exit, but when she covertly nodded at the music professor and gestured her head to the door, he immediately understood. There were times when a fella needed another man to talk him up, and she was clever enough to realize that being torn down publicly by one’s own mother was certainly one of them. And per their implicit pact, Harold could trust that Lucy would remain by his wife’s side to provide soothing womanly company in return.

Figuring Fred hadn’t gotten too far away – and having heard a screen door bang rather loudly as Anna served them all pie, which the women pretended not to hear with a deafness that only the most determined ‘Iowa stubborn’ of ladies could feign – the music professor checked the front porch. Indeed, the reporter was gripping the railing and staring hollowly at the horizon, his head slumped so far into his shoulders that his neck was barely visible. Harold’s heart constricted as he recognized that terrible, beaten look of a man who was hemmed in against his will but had lost his will to resist. It certainly didn’t help matters that, while the rain had finally ceased, the land was enveloped in a thick blanket of dull gray fog that completely concealed the faraway horizon, thereby increasing the sensation of being imprisoned.

Harold cleared his throat. When Fred glanced dolefully around, he held up the plate of pie that Fanny had surreptitiously pressed into his hands as she helped her sisters clear the table. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help at dinner.”

The reporter sighed and took the plate from him. “I’m the one who ought to be sorry. I should never have asked you to come and put up with all this nonsense.”

Harold placed a hand on Fred’s shoulder. “Say now, I’m always happy to help a friend, especially one who’s done so much for me.” He chuckled. “When you said your mother excelled at insulting anyone who didn’t live up to her standards, you really weren’t kidding!”

Given how perceptive Fred was, it wasn’t a surprise that he’d picked up on how Mrs. Gallup’s opinionated remarks about the lack of childbearing had touched a raw nerve among the Hills: “I apologize for my mother’s complete lack of tact – I saw the look on Miss Marian’s face. While Lucy and I don’t want any children and can’t have any even if we did, Fanny _does_ wish she could’ve had more than one. And so my mother has artlessly managed to insult us all.” He let out a long sigh. “Well, the silver lining of this mess is that she’s going to do what she always does after causing such a terrible fuss: pretend none of it ever happened. She’ll just find all new ways to insult us tomorrow.”

Harold nodded and paused to marshal his thoughts before he continued his pep talk to boost Fred’s spirits. For a great deal of his life, he was a man without a past or a future, living in the margins of time when he wasn’t reveling in the fleeting present. Having to deal with such an overbearing mother flanked by a phalanx of fiercely loyal daughter-enforcers was not something he had any experience with and, to his chagrin, he was finding himself a little more knocked off balance than he anticipated. As an unrepentant conman, he could have navigated this disastrous dinner with consummate ease and even detached amusement as he observed the cockeyed family dynamics on display. But now that there were people at the table whom he actually cared about, it was a lot more difficult not to get annoyed and even angry when he saw the way Mrs. Gallup’s ignorant homespun opinions wounded them – particularly when one of those casualties was his wife, the woman he loved so deeply that he’d reformed his entire wayward life just to be by her side.

While Harold knew that his own mother had also wished her son stayed closer to home, he was tremendously grateful that she understood a man’s wanderlust and never tried to stop him from leaving. And when he came home for the holidays, he was able to conceal the more unsavory elements of his chosen career from her, so their visits were not nearly this tense. As for extended family, his father had no living relatives – not that the music professor knew of, anyway – and his mother had been disowned after her marriage, so there had never been any formidable clan that the music professor was forced to contend with during his childhood. Still, Harold understood what it was to chafe under the burden of an unwanted family legacy. Though he had abandoned his bequeathed pomposity of a birth name upon the age of majority, his ancestral moniker remained an unpleasant reminder of all the ways he failed to measure up to generations of far more august men (excepting his reprobate father) that he was named after.

Although the music professor had spoken none of these thoughts aloud, Fred eyed him pensively as he ate his pie. “This is a whole new kind of trouble for you, isn’t it?”

“Well, I can’t say I’ve ever witnessed a family gathering where the hostess had such well-meaning intentions coupled with such poor execution of them,” he admitted. “But I have been to a few dinners ruled by the iron fist of a powerful matriarch that did _not_ end well for me. There was one such dinner in Yonkers I should tell you about sometime. I’ll be much better prepared to intercede in the future now that I know exactly what we’re up against, I can promise you that.”

“Yes, my mother _always_ means well,” Fred said sardonically. “She’s just perpetually unhappy that she can’t order the world to her liking. She’s a fat spider, this sprawling farmhouse is her web, and she’s got us all snagged in it.”

Harold was intrigued by the image and, being blessed with a silver tongue, a little bit jealous that he hadn’t initially thought of it himself, especially as he eyed the various wings of the rambling homestead fading into the fog. He’d been trying to figure out just how to sum up the mercurial Mrs. Gallup ever since they arrived, and this was exactly the kind of apt yet succinct description he’d been attempting to articulate. But then again, Fred was the gifted writer among the two of them, and this was his mother, so he didn’t begrudge the reporter this well-worded insight. “And what does she want, you think?”

Fred let out an acerbic laugh, sounding uncannily like Lucy whenever she was displeased. “Oh, that’s an easy question to answer. She wants every single one of her children and grandchildren around her, living the lives she deems proper for them, and she wants to be at the center of our importance forever.”

Harold nodded. “Sometimes, that kind of person can cause more damage than the one who is merely malicious.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Fred grumbled as he swallowed the last of his pie.

XXX

In recompense for his being so tongue-tied at dinner, Harold was as charming and engaging as he could be when he and Fred rejoined everyone in the parlor, so he couldn’t fully relax until courtesy finally allowed them to retire for the evening. While Fred and Lucy were stuck rooming in the family home, the music professor and librarian were more comfortably installed in the guest house, so they enjoyed a modicum of privacy. Penny and Elly were fortunately young enough not to have absorbed any of the unpleasant undercurrents among the adults and, having thoroughly worn themselves out playing with the Gallup clan’s large brood, they went to sleep with surprisingly few complaints.

“Are you all right, darling?” Harold asked his wife tentatively as they likewise prepared for bed. “I know that wasn’t the most pleasant of dinners. And we still have the main event to get through tomorrow!”

Marian, who was already lying down on top of the covers and reading a book, sighed and laid a ribbon across the page to mark her place before placing the volume on a nearby end table. “I’ll survive. Mrs. Gallup is merely a prosaic woman who doesn’t know how to mind her tongue. It’s not like I haven’t had any experience with that kind of lady in River City! Admittedly, I _was_ offended by her screed about children, but from now on I absolutely refuse to take anything she says personally. Poor Fred! To have to grow up with that kind of mother – it’s no wonder he fled to Des Moines when he got the chance.”

“It’s no wonder he invited us when he had to come back,” Harold said with a grim chuckle. “If this was my family, I’d call in the cavalry, too!” He sat on the bed and took his wife’s hands in his. “You know, we ought to demonstrate our unity with Fred and Lucy’s position in private. It’ll help us work up the nerve to do it more decisively in public when the time comes.” His eyes twinkled mischievously. “And as it just so happens, I’ve got a ‘little something for the weekend’ in my suitcase.”

To his delight, Marian looked aroused rather than scandalized. “And just how much have you brought ‘for the weekend,’ _Mister_ Hill?”

“Enough to test out the bed for a solid fortnight,” he assured her. “More than enough to make Mrs. Gallup bring the righteous wrath of the Bible down upon our heads, if she knew what we were up to!”

The librarian gave him the most deliciously wicked smile as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to lie down with her. “I look forward to demonstrating our unity.”

And so, husband and wife spent the next several hours being scandalously lax in their duty to procreate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marian’s loss and their complicated feelings about conceiving more children are explored more thoroughly in [A Man Could Sing It Again](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20318761/chapters/48173515).


	5. The Water Tower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One sister warns Fred, while another attempts to undermine him.

_Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime._  
_~Mark Twain_

XXX

Things were a little less rosy in Fred and Lucy’s room. While neither of them had any qualms about engaging in protracted carnal indulgences while staying in bed-and-breakfasts with paper-thin walls, it was surprisingly difficult to muster up a proper romantic mood when one’s overbearing mother was housed on the other side of the divide. It certainly didn’t help matters that the ancient bed creaked and groaned from years of disuse – every time they so much as twitched, the infernal piece of furniture alerted the rest of the upstairs of _movement_.

But after years of making do in less than adequate accommodations, the reporter and the actress were nothing if not resourceful – pulling the covers over her head, Lucy shimmied down to Fred’s lap and skillfully brought him to climax with impressively minimal movement on her part. After she was finished, he reciprocated by fingering her just as efficiently until she came. While it wasn’t nearly as much fun as their lovemaking in the inn last night, it was enough to melt away the tension that had built up after the myriad frustrations of being in his family’s extended company.

As they lay quietly in each other’s arms, Lucy let out that acerbic little laugh that he’d grown to love dearly, especially since it was rarely aimed at him nowadays: “Your mother _would_ hang that persnickety little sampler in the parlor where your quilt used to be!”

“_A place for everything, and everything in its place_,” he intoned. “The unofficial family motto.”

Lucy’s giggle blossomed into a full-fledged laugh, and Fred joined her in her mirth – which resulted in a scolding series of raps on their wall. Husband and wife immediately subsided.

“Susan,” Fred said dourly. Because of course his most carping sister’s room had to be on the other side of his.

“How dare she treat us like naughty children?” Lucy bristled. “We ought to go at it like _animals_, creaking bed be damned.”

Although Fred felt his cock twitch pleasantly at the idea – his wife had the most brilliantly wicked mind he’d ever encountered in a female – he didn’t move a muscle. “I wouldn’t put it past my dear sister to barge right in and read us the riot act if we did that. She was always a worse scold than even our mother.”

Lucy turned to face him and, in the semidarkness, he could see her pupils dilated with the same arousal he was presently fighting to keep in check. “Does the door have a lock?”

Fred darted out of bed to check, praying to a God he didn’t disbelieve in but rarely acknowledged that his mother had the decency to make this rudimentary improvement to his boyhood room. And to his delight, she had indeed predicted a married couple’s need for such privacy: the device was a simple slide bolt, but would do the trick nicely. Sliding it shut, he turned to see the delicious sight of his wife propped up on her long and lean haunches, gloriously naked and eying him as if she was a cat ready to pounce.

So he let her tear off his union suit and pull him supine beneath her. While they took great care not to make their exhalations any louder than a sharp panting, Lucy rode him so fiercely that he feared the bed would collapse beneath their exertions. When they finally spent themselves – she shoved a fist in her mouth to stifle her screams each time she climaxed, and he buried his head in her breasts to muffle his groan as he came – Fred had to suppress a belly-rumbling guffaw because he could almost feel the mortified silence emanating from the direction of Susan’s quarters. (On the other side of them, his mother was probably gloating about her increased chances for grandchildren, but he paid that no mind.)

“_That’ll_ teach her not to be such a joy-killing scold,” Lucy hissed in a triumphant whisper, shooting him a conspiratorial grin that made him want to do it all over again.

Instead, Fred settled for burying his head in the crook of his wife’s alluring neck and inhaling her musky jasmine scent. “Will you take a walk with me tomorrow morning after breakfast? There’s a place in Charleston I’ve always wanted to show you.”

XXX

Thankfully, breakfast was a casual affair with minimal conversation. As the Gallup women were far too busy preparing the big Thanksgiving dinner to remain at the table for long after politely bidding everyone good morning – indeed, his mother was beaming with delight at the two of them and Susan’s countenance was an amusing mixture of annoyed and embarrassed – Fred and Lucy shared a pleasantly companionable meal with Harold, Marian, and his sisters’ longsuffering husbands.

Once the reporter and the actress had eaten to their satisfaction, he immediately excused them both so they could go on their planned stroll. One of the perks of being a Gallup son, even if he was the black sheep of the family, was that he wasn’t expected to engage in any domesticity inside of the house. And in their clan, a husband’s prerogative outranked the expectation that his wife join the other ladies in the kitchen. So not even Susan could begrudge their subsequent absence from the flurry of dinner preparations, had she been so inclined. Fred suspected she was relieved that they were quitting the premises, as she couldn’t quite look either one of them in the eye, not even after they bade her the most decorous good morning.

Unlike the day before, the weather was delightful. While the air was much chillier, the sun shone bright and the sky was cloudless. The constant wind whistling over the wide-open landscape was as relentless as ever, but they had taken care to bundle up, so it was still a preferable alternative to the stultifying atmosphere of the Gallup homestead. While Fred was not overly fond of the sparse backdrop of rural Iowa, he felt himself breathing a lot easier out here, and he could see that his wife’s demeanor had also relaxed noticeably. While she had endured the impositions of his family with impeccable poise and grace, the constant need to school even her minutest of expressions had to be exhausting, and he was pleased that he could give her this brief reprieve.

After a good twenty minutes of walking, they finally reached their destination: the water tower on the outskirts of town. As a boy, Fred had spent a great deal of time here, because it was the one place that allowed him to be alone with his most peculiar and disloyal thoughts, heresies which even Fanny would have hushed in the name of preserving family harmony. Though the other townspeople recognized this structure as a necessary evil, they considered it an eyesore, so he was never disturbed here. Unlike everyone else in Charleston, the fledgling big-city reporter was thrilled that the water tower was built from steel instead of wood: it represented a glimmer of progress and modernity in a sea of provincial farmland, and it reminded him that there were places in the world that were moving.

Surmising that even his unconventional wife might be perplexed by this tour of such an eccentric landmark, Fred had prepared a little speech explaining its personal significance to him. But when he turned to look at Lucy, he was gratified to see that she was gazing at the water tower with the same sense of wonder and appreciation that he’d experienced when he first laid eyes on it.

“It’s a marvel of civil engineering,” she said, sounding genuinely impressed. “I never would have guessed this poky old place was capable of such scientific progress!”

Fred grinned. “It was my favorite place in Charleston when I was growing up.”

“I can see why,” Lucy concurred. “I wish Pilger had something this advanced!” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Did you take Bess here, too?”

“Just once, when I asked her to go steady with me,” he admitted with a rueful chuckle.

Lucy’s expression was an enchanting mix of amused and sympathetic. “And how well did _that_ particular stroll go?”

Fred burst into laughter. How quickly she grasped the crux of the matter! Every little town had a path or a footbridge hidden in a copse of trees, and that was where all the teenagers went for clandestine romance. So naturally, Charleston’s version of this trysting spot was where Bess had, rightly or wrongly, expected him to take her in order to officially commence their courtship. But Fred had never felt entirely comfortable there, so he took her to the one place that actually meant something to him. Although Bess had enthusiastically agreed to be his gal, he knew she wondered why he asked her that special question _here_, in the shadow of the ugly water tower.

The reporter exhaled sharply as these recollections dampened his mirth. “I tried to explain this place to her and she tried to understand, so we both wasted the next several years ignoring how fundamentally incompatible we were.”

Lucy snuggled up next to him and laid her head on his shoulder. “Well, _I_ would have been thrilled if a boy had demonstrated the imagination and originality you did. Thank you for taking me here.”

Even after three years of marriage, Fred still couldn’t believe his luck in finding a woman who understood him so completely. Turning to his wife, he kissed her far more passionately and enthusiastically than he’d ever embraced his former fiancée.

XXX

Three hours later, Fred and Lucy returned to the Gallup homestead, their spirits much improved. Fred was counting on this interlude to provide him the composure he needed to get through what was sure to be another trying dinner.

And perhaps this respite would have been enough, if Fanny hadn’t been waiting ominously on the front porch for them. She was airing out the linens, but there was a stiffness in her demeanor that he knew did not bode well for them.

Indeed, the moment they stepped on the porch, Fanny looked up and said without so much as the preamble of cordial greeting, “Has mother told you? She’s invited Bess and her family to Thanksgiving.”

Fred felt Lucy stiffen next to him. But he was too stunned to comfort her – all he could do was gape at his sister. As disastrous as yesterday’s dinner conversation had been, the reporter hadn’t been so gobsmacked by the utter gracelessness of his family for quite some time. “How long have you known this?”

“I found out shortly after breakfast,” she said grimly. “Anna and Susan were giggling over it when they thought I wasn’t listening. I can’t think why mother would extend such a courtesy this particular year, as she’s not invited them to anything since – well, since Bess got engaged to Henry Harper. I would’ve come and told you right away, but I didn’t know where you’d gone.”

Lucy asked the next question before Fred did, and in a voice that was so soft and sad that his heart wrenched in his chest. “So why would she invite her now, then?”

Fanny’s eyes narrowed mutinously. But since she wouldn’t go so far as to speak such an unpalatable truth aloud, Fred supplied the answer: “Because she wants to pretend that we’re all one big, happy family under her domestic benevolence. No matter how awkward or unpleasant such posturing is for the rest of us.”

When Fanny nodded in vigorous agreement, Fred’s mouth went uncomfortably dry. She only ever encouraged such criticism when their mother pulled a particularly egregious stunt. And he was further shocked when his sister openly tutted, “Sadly, I can’t pretend that I’m surprised by our mother’s vanity. But I am surprised that Bess actually had the nerve to accept the invitation! While I’m not the mistress of this homestead and would never wish to be, I didn’t think it was right to spring your former fiancée on you entirely unannounced. The Harpers should be arriving sometime in the next hour.”

Fred’s stomach lurched, and his mouth went even drier. He swallowed, but it didn’t help much. Still, he somehow managed to croak out, “Thanks for the warning. We’ll be in our room until dinner.”

XXX

Fortuitously, Fred and Lucy crossed Harold and Marian’s path as they entered the vestibule. The music professor and the librarian were dressed in their dinner finery, and they both looked stunning and poised, which made him feel both better and worse. While it was encouraging to have such formidable allies in their corner, the reporter was all too aware of how disheveled and miserable of a picture that he and Lucy currently presented in comparison to the Hills’ polished elegance.

“We just found out my mother invited Bess and her family,” he explained at their inquiring expressions.

Harold nodded in immediate understanding. “We’ll run interference so you can make it to your room unbothered.”

Marian laid a gentle hand on her husband’s arm. “Perhaps they would prefer to take refuge in our quarters at the guest house? There is more privacy there, I suspect.”

Harold gave her a fond smile. “An excellent consideration, darling.”

Fred looked at Lucy, ceding the decision to her. It was the least he could do, after exposing her to his wretched mother’s perverse machinations for domestic dominance.

“We still need to dress for dinner, and everything is in our room,” she reminded him, though it was clear from her envious expression that she would have loved to put that kind of distance between herself and this sprawling web of a homestead.

“Interference it is, then,” Harold confirmed.

After a grateful nod from Fred, each husband-wife pair departed to their separate business.

XXX

The moment their bedroom door was safely shut behind them, Lucy went over to the vanity, picked up a brush, and calmly combed through her dark locks.

Fred knew it was a foolish question, but he felt compelled to ask it anyway. “Are you all right?”

She gave him a brittle smile that didn’t even make the pretense of reaching her eyes. “I’ve been in worse situations. Really, I have! This is nothing compared to the stunts that Simon and William Josiah Wright pulled at my expense, and I didn’t have anyone to get offended on my behalf back then. Now I have _you_.” Her lower lip quavered, as if she was trying not to cry. “And your mother _is_ trying to like me as best as she can, even if I’m not the wife she would have picked for you.”

“She could try a hell of a lot harder than throwing Bess in our faces like this,” he fumed. He’d known his mother would be tactless, but he hadn’t expected _this_ level of insensitivity, and he was still reeling from it. “I’ve got a good mind to skip her damned dinner and catch the next stagecoach out of town!”

Lucy laid down her brush and turned to regard him with a strange mixture of delight and resignation. “Normally, I’d be right on that stagecoach with you, honey, but the next one won’t be available until tomorrow morning at the earliest. And we’ve got to eat in the meantime.”

Fred’s stomach rumbled, as if to remind him of this inexorable truth. A light breakfast coupled with a long walk had left him famished. And it certainly didn't help matters that the entire upstairs was permeated with the delectable aroma of roast turkey with all the trimmings. “Okay, fine. We’ll go to dinner,” he said through gritted teeth. “And this will be our last visit for a very long time.”

Lucy smiled much more warmly this time, but he was unsettled by the skittish way she fiddled with the antique pearl and emerald engagement ring he’d given her – the precious family heirloom that his late grandmother had bequeathed to him for his future wife. “It was easy enough to pretend your mother’s idle chatter didn’t sting, but every woman has her limits.” Her lip quavered dangerously again. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it through the entire dinner with a straight face. So your family might end up blaming me for our renewed estrangement. They’ll say I was jealous of Bess and that I’m keeping you away from them.”

Realizing the unfair but inescapable accuracy of her astute observation, Fred took her trembling hands in his and pulled her to sit on the bed with him. “I don’t give a damn about what they say about me, but I refuse to let them slander _you_. I’ll publish an editorial publicly disowning them if that’s what it takes to keep you out of this!”

Lucy let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. “You’d do that for _me_?”

He tightened his grip on her hands – not to the point of pain, but just enough to reassure her of his devotion. “Do you remember what I told you back in Winfield?”

Lucy’s prodigious memory for scripts lent her the ability for near-perfect recall of previous conversations: “_Whatever happens, remember that you’re my home, and you always will be_.”

Fred nodded vehemently. “That will be _our_ personal motto. We have at least one hour until dinner. What do you want to do until then?”

“I don’t want to talk anymore.” She blinked, and a smattering of tears rolled down her cheeks. “I _can’t_… ”

So he gave her the one distraction he knew she would most appreciate: he kissed her, hard. As she melted eagerly into him, one of his hands found the nape of her neck to caress her curls as the other stroked the top of her thigh. As eager as he was to make her forget about the awful dinner they were going to have to endure, he meant to go slowly, to fill every minute they were allowed to be alone like this with pleasure. And so he was only just in the process of tugging her skirts upward when a sharp knock interrupted their embrace – he’d barely gotten out a breathless “Just a minute!” before the door was thrown open.

Susan stood on the threshold, sporting a smug grin – which faded into an expression of mortified affront when she fully registered the scene she’d so rudely disturbed. Fred and Lucy’s mouths had immediately parted at the knock on the door, but his hand was still grasping her thigh and her dress was bunched up to her knees.

“Have you no respect for propriety?” Fred hissed. He leaped to his feet and moved to shield his wife from view so she could smooth out her wrinkled skirts in relative decency.

“Your door has a lock, you know,” Susan huffily informed him, as if _she_ was the wronged party in the equation. “You might learn to use it. And you’re a fine one to talk of propriety – it’s the middle of the _day_! And on Thanksgiving, too!”

Fred was too rattled by her audacity to pretend his usual nonchalance whenever she tried to needle him about his behavior. “_You_ might learn not to open a door unless someone has given you clear instructions to enter! What do you want, anyway?”

Susan’s smug smile returned full force – that mean, toad-like smirk he’d abhorred ever since he was a toddler and she’d stolen large bites from his dessert whenever their mother’s back was turned. “Mother wanted me to inform you that Bess Harper and her family have arrived, and they’re waiting for you to come downstairs and introduce them to your new wife.”

It was a good thing Fanny had warned him of this turn of events in advance, as he would _not_ have liked to make this unpleasant discovery in the presence of his least favorite sister. Out of all of the Gallup children, Susan was the most like their mother in both looks and personality, and brother and sister’s mutual animosity had only increased once they both reached adulthood. After Fred’s abdication as family patriarch, Anna and her husband had become the de facto heirs of the Gallup manor, and because Susan could not take out her jealousy on her betters for being permanently second-place in the family pecking order, she aimed it entirely at Fred. When they were still children, she’d resented him because he was the only son and golden boy in a family that valued males over females. But that halcyon period of favor for him ended as soon as he was old enough to formulate opinions that were contradictory to his mother’s homespun worldview, but still young enough to be stupidly candid about what he truly believed. Nowadays, Susan had shifted to resenting him for willingly walking away from everything she personally held dear.

So of course she would take such vindictive pleasure in being the one to break the news about Bess’s visit. As obtuse as Susan was, even she knew it was not something a man who’d married another woman would welcome without at least a little discomfort. Unluckily for her, Fred was prepared for this bombshell, and he let out a jovial laugh. “Well, what a lovely coincidence! Lucy’s been telling me how excited she is to meet my former fiancée. You can let mother know that we’ll be down in five minutes.”

Susan’s smile slid right off her face – if it had been a tangible object, it would have crashed to the floor and shattered. “Who told you that Bess was coming? Was it Fanny? I bet it was Fanny.” Her scowl deepened. “It was supposed to be a surprise!”

“It wasn’t Fanny. Mother just couldn’t contain her joy, and informed me of the happy news this morning,” Fred said airily. He had to smother a triumphant laugh as he noted the harsh lines of chagrin now etched in his sister’s forehead and jowls.

But even in the midst of her defeat, she was not entirely thwarted in her vendetta to knock him off balance. Pasting a poisonously polite smile onto her face, she said, “If you could please remind me, I’m so terribly forgetful – how long have the two of you been married?”

“Three years,” Fred said proudly.

Susan glowered, as if he’d confirmed her worst suspicions. “Well, it’s a wonder you haven’t been blessed with children after so long, what with your excessive marital displays!” She shot Lucy a look that was so venomous even the consummate actress couldn’t help blushing. “Or are you one of _those_ women that mother was warning us about yesterday?”

Fred was so enraged that, for the first time in his life, he seriously contemplated striking a woman. And he might have done just that, if Lucy hadn’t stood and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Well now,” she said levelly, the full measure of her down-home twang ringing in her voice. “It might interest you to know that I was brought up in a town very much like Charleston – where no one would’ve ever had the indecency to ask such insulting questions of a woman.”

Susan actually had the grace to look ashamed of her own rudeness for a brief moment, but she rallied quickly. “You’re a _very_ good actress, Miss Dixon. How do I know that accent is even real?”

Fred had managed to get a hold of himself thanks to his wife’s quick intervention, but he was still thoroughly out of patience for his least favorite sister’s nasty little games. “It _is_ real. She’s from Pilger, Nebraska, and I’d swear to this on mother’s Bible.” When Susan opened her mouth to retort, he growled, “Get out of our room. _Now_. Or I _will_ cause a scene, and if you don’t believe Lucy’s accent, you’ve seen and heard enough by now to know that neither of us cares who observes anything we do.”

Susan’s mouth curled in disgust and disdain, but even she couldn’t argue with that. “You said you’d be downstairs in five minutes? I’ll be sure to let everyone know.” And with that, she turned and flounced out of the room.

As soon as Fred closed – and locked – the door behind Susan, he turned and punched the mattress with both fists. The old bed groaned loudly at this fresh assault, and he burst into laughter as he realized his scandalized sister would think they went right back to what they were doing when she barged in on them. So he struck the bed again, though it was fury rather than lust that drove his actions. How could he have fallen into such an obvious rhetorical trap? He’d avoided such pitfalls with nimble ease back when it was his job to coax stories from the most crafty and recalcitrant of interviewees, so why was he reduced to an incoherent ball of rage after a few pathetic jibes from the most insignificant rube of a woman he’d ever known? He was better than this!

Lucy’s hands soothingly stroked his back. “Don’t beat yourself up, Fred. My mother always found a way to get my goat, too. Family’s talented that way.”

The fight finally went out of him, and he sagged in his wife’s arms. “I’m learning all kinds of new and interesting things about the depths of my family’s loathsomeness, at any rate! But I won’t let her put one over on me like that again. We just need to get through dinner, and then we’ll retire early and leave first thing tomorrow morning.” He turned toward her so he could kiss his way down to the hollow of her pretty throat. “And tonight, I promise I’ll finish what my sister so rudely interrupted just now.”

Lucy giggled. When he lifted his head to look at her, he was relieved to see the gleam of naughty fun that spurred him on last night had stolen back into her gaze. “You’d better, because I’m definitely going to hold you to it.”

Fred pressed his hips into hers, and she pressed back. “I should have told them to give us fifteen minutes,” he grumbled, planting one final kiss on his wife’s mischievously upturned lips before they had to part and dress for dinner in earnest. “But at least we’ll have _something_ to look forward to tonight… ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had way too much fun writing this chapter: Susan is the Karen of the early 1900s.


	6. The Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanksgiving dinner isn’t as bad as Fred thought it would be. It’s even worse.

_Our anxiety does not come from thinking about the future, but from wanting to control it._  
_~Kahlil Gibran_

XXX

Once their allotted five minutes was up, Fred and Lucy exited their room and made their way decorously downstairs. While the reporter was focused on maintaining the coolly affable smile he always took refuge behind whenever he found himself stuck in an uncomfortable social situation, he couldn’t help sneaking admiring glances at his beautiful wife. She had donned her grandest gown for the occasion, and he had worn his smartest suit. Armed in their poshest finery, the two of them made an even more stunning pair than Harold and Marian Hill – they weren’t dressed just to maim, but outright kill. Because even his provincial mother and sisters couldn’t help oohing and aahing over the latest fashions from New York.

As Fred and Lucy entered the parlor arm in arm, everyone turned to stare at them. The reporter was gratified to see the awe in all of their faces – even Harold and Marian looked impressed – and took care not to look too haughty as he headed right to the Harpers to get the requisite niceties over with. Bess and Henry Harper had likewise dressed in their finest attire, but they were clearly outclassed, and it wouldn’t do to rub it in.

“How lovely to see the two of you again!” Fred said with a cordial grin. “I’m so glad you could join us for Thanksgiving dinner. You’ve already met Harold and Marian Hill, I presume” – he gestured toward the music professor and librarian, who nodded from their position on the window seat – “So it’s my pleasure to introduce you to my wife, Lucy, who goes by Miss Dixon. Lucy, this is Henry and Bess Harper, longtime friends of the Gallup family.”

Henry Harper nodded stiffly, though not out of meanness – he’d always been a taciturn fella. After observing this courtesy, he withdrew to join the other sister-husbands. But Bess remained standing right where she was, her smile sweetly amiable as she shook hands with the actress. “It’s so nice to finally meet! I’ve heard so much about you.”

“All good things, I hope!” Lucy laughed. Bess didn’t flinch, but Fred could tell his wife’s jollity was forced.

“Of course, Miss Dixon,” Bess assured her. “I hear that you’re a wonderfully accomplished actress, a charming singer, and that you play the piano beautifully. It’s a pity that I won’t be able to see you on stage, but I would love to hear you play a piece after dinner, if you’re so inclined.”

Fred noted with relief that the tension in Lucy’s shoulders ebbed, and she smiled more genuinely than she ever had at any of his mother’s backhanded compliments. “Please, call me Lucy. And as I understand it, you’re quite the charming singer, yourself.”

Bess’s cheeks reddened slightly, but she looked far more pleased than embarrassed by such praise. “I used to be active with our church choir,” she acknowledged, “but it’s been years since I’ve been able to find the time for it. I’m hoping to return as soon as my youngest is weaned.”

“Well, I would love to hear you sing, if you’re inclined,” Lucy offered. “I’ll play accompaniment.”

“I will think on it over dinner,” Bess modestly agreed. “Perhaps we can sing something together.”

Despite the genuine rapport between the ladies, Fred had to give Lucy’s hand a furtive squeeze of reassurance when she tightened her grip possessively on him as his former fiancée turned his way. For when their eyes met, the reporter felt nothing but benevolent gratitude for the best manners he’d seen from anyone in this town. Admittedly, Bess looked well – her corn-colored curls had not lost their luster and her doe-eyed gaze still radiated the down-to-earth kindness that once captivated him – but she had filled out in the past several years and her appearance was every inch the small-town farmer’s wife. She was not his type physically and, in all honesty, had she ever really been? Despite what his mother claimed about his romantic predilections, no flaxen-haired female had ever made his heart pound and his pulse race the way that raven-tressed Lucy did.

“How wonderful to see you again, Fred!” Bess greeted him. “I’ve been enjoying your columns on the arts whenever they filter down to us in Charleston. You truly have a gift with words.”

“Why, thank you,” he said sincerely. Perhaps dinner wouldn’t be as excruciating as he dreaded. Impeccable grace had always been one of Bess’s strong points. He could also tell from his long experience in reading people for hidden motivations that her words were genuine, as there was not a scrap of bitterness, resentment, or envy coloring her friendly tone. So he had no qualms about complimenting her in return: “Motherhood agrees very well with you.” He motioned to the plump, pink-cheeked little bundle in Bess’s arms, which was sucking vigorously on its little fist and grunting. Infancy was by far the least interesting phase of childhood, but he could parrot the obligatory felicitations as courteously as anyone. “Congratulations on your newest little one. This is your sixth child, or so I’m told? Boy or girl?”

Before Bess could elaborate beyond an affirmative nod, Mrs. Gallup bustled out of the kitchen and swooped over to commandeer the center of attention. “Well, it’s about time you came downstairs, Freddie! Took you long enough to get ready. You’ve met Clarence, I see. Isn’t he the most precious little thing?” she cooed, craning her head until it was merely inches from the baby’s face. The creature paused in its gnawing and stared up at her in frightened bafflement, which did not deter the overbearing matron in the least: “Why, I could just eat you right up!”

The infant let out a keening screech and attempted to stuff _both_ of its little fists into its mouth.

“He’s getting hungry again, and I just fed him before I left,” Bess said with an apologetic smile. “Is there somewhere I can take him to nurse?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Gallup gestured grandly toward the stairwell. “Upstairs, second bedroom on the right. It’s the largest one in the house after my own.”

Fred couldn’t contain his frown when he realized that his mother had offered her _their_ room, but he said nothing. Lucy’s smile froze, but she likewise remained silent. Although this was an appalling breach of privacy, there was much they were prepared to endure to keep the peace until they could leave tomorrow morning.

As ever, Bess picked up on these disquieting undercurrents, and endeavored to make herself as little of a nuisance as possible. “Are you sure I wouldn’t be intruding? I would hate to displace anyone already in residence.”

“Of course you’re not intruding!” Mrs. Gallup insisted. “A nursing mother needs to be made comfortable as possible, and I’m sure there isn’t a soul in this house who would begrudge you that small courtesy.”

As if on cue in one of Lucy’s madcap theatrical farces, the infant started emitting the most ghastly series of shrieks. As Bess jiggled and rocked the unhappy baby in her arms, which continued to scream unabated, she looked pleadingly at Fred and Lucy. So what could they do but nod their assent?

“Thank you,” she shouted over the infant’s caterwauling. “I promise to be quick as possible!”

Once Bess had gone upstairs, Mrs. Gallup regarded her son and daughter-in-law with an anticipatory smile. “I do _so_ love babies… ”

His ears still ringing from all that high-pitched howling – which he could still hear as Bess settled herself in the creaky old rocking chair in his boyhood room – Fred had just been thanking his lucky stars that babies weren’t something he and Lucy would ever have to deal with. While he wasn’t so foolish as to air such a blasphemous opinion aloud, his mother’s eyes narrowed as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Now, Freddie, babies don’t cry like that _all_ the time,” she chided. “They’re perfectly pleasant once they’ve been fed, burped, and changed into a fresh diaper. You’ll see… if God wills it.” She fixed the full measure of her aggravating persistence on his wife. “Lucy, you tell him! I have a hunch he’ll believe it when it comes from _you_.”

The actress blanched at the imposition and, as she stammered a noncommittal response, Fred quashed the urge to intervene, as it would only make his mother come down even harder on them both. He willed his expression to remain neutral, but it alarmed him how quickly and easily she could knock them off balance. They were already cracking under the strain, and they hadn’t even made it to the table yet. Doing the only thing he could think of to get them out of this jam, Fred angled his head toward Harold and Marian. But before he could motion for his friends to come over and provide a distraction, a loud sizzle suddenly emanated from the kitchen.

“Mercy me!” cried Mrs. Gallup. “I can’t leave the stove for a minute. What in heaven’s name are Anna and Susan and Fanny about? Not a one of them can function properly when I’m not around!” She winked at her daughter-in-law. “You’ll have to continue convincing Freddie how wonderful children are in my stead.”

Looking openly annoyed, Lucy didn’t even offer so much as a perfunctory nod. Fortunately, his mother was far too distracted by her own self-importance to notice this breach of decorum as she swept out of the room.

XXX

“I’m so sorry to have been such an inconvenience,” Bess apologized when she came downstairs a half hour later. “The quilt Fanny made for you was lovely to look at while Clarence was occupied.”

Fred and Lucy were standing by the window sharing pleasant conversation with Harold and Marian, which had put the reporter in a much better mood. He was planning to spend the rest of this damned dinner with his wife and friends right by his side, as it had already proven too dangerous to allow himself or Lucy to find themselves without such ready reinforcements.

“Think nothing of it,” he said magnanimously, appreciating her tactful choice of words as to his purloined gift. “And Fanny was always a dab hand with a needle.”

“Babies do need to eat,” Lucy put in with a kind smile.

“Indeed, they do,” Bess gratefully concurred. “But he should sleep soundly for the next two or three hours, which will allow me to eat dinner before he gets hungry again.”

Fred felt a real pang of sympathy at the haggard note in her normally melodious voice. Once again, he wondered why his former fiancée had come, as she was looking embarrassed, uncomfortable, and even miserable to be here. His instincts rejected the notion that she harbored any kind of romantic feelings for him, as she seemed content with her lot as Mrs. Harper, so what was the reason that brought her to the Gallup homestead? Idle curiosity as to how a former flame fared was hardly a compelling enough motivation for a gracious lady and exhausted mother to enter this viper’s den.

Racking his brain, the reporter remembered from one of his mother’s interminably rambling letters that Bess’s mother had passed away last year – the last living Appleton or Harper of the previous generation – and he also recalled that neither she nor Henry had much in the way of extended family. Since Bess and Henry were the only children in their immediate families to survive to adulthood, they had found themselves the heirs of two farms, and decided to live at the Appleton homestead while leasing out the Harper fields. So not only did they have twice the property to manage, there were six children to look after, with one of them still nursing. As such, Bess probably appreciated the opportunity to take a break from the rigors of hosting and cooking such an enormous dinner. However, while this alibi was quite plausible, it didn’t seem to tell the whole story. Because it didn’t explain why Henry Harper had not only consented to this strange visit, but also seemed remarkably at ease in the company of Anna’s, Susan’s, and Fanny’s husbands.

So Fred decided to do a little poking around. “How is the Appleton farm doing since your mother passed? I heard you and your family live there now?”

“Well enough, and yes, we do,” Bess confirmed, looking relieved at the change of subject. For a polite interval, she discussed crop yields and the general state of the land, which Fred pretended to be interested in, but his full attention didn’t really perk up again until she said, “Unfortunately, we had to sell off the Harper land after the drought a few years back, and if it wasn’t for Mrs. Gallup’s generous assistance, we would’ve had to mortgage the Appleton fields, as well.”

Fred raised an eyebrow. “And so my mother is now your landlord?” he asked, careful to keep his tone politely nonchalant.

Bess nodded. “Essentially, yes… at least, until we pay back the loan she gave to keep our farm afloat.”

She said this without rancor or regret, but it was clear from the fatigue in her voice that she was well aware of the strings that came attached to such a substantial purse, and this wasn’t the first time she had felt the pull of them.

Fred asked no more questions after that. He knew well enough from his initial struggles to earn a living that it was imperative to keep in your landlord’s good graces. And it was clear from the understanding looks on Lucy’s, Harold’s, and even Marian’s faces that they were likewise aware of this truism. But what the others may not have known, though they could certainly surmise, is that the Gallup family had been an economic force to be reckoned with since Charleston was first settled. So when his mother said _jump_, of course the Harpers would say, _how high?_

And so, having run out of general pleasantries to discuss, the five of them stood around smiling rather awkwardly at each other until the lady of the manor summoned them to dinner.

XXX

It was a little past two thirty when everyone finally got themselves settled with heaping plates of food. The children were crammed into the kitchen, and the merry pandemonium that emanated from the room was almost alarming in its volume and intensity. Mercifully, the cacophony did not stir Bess’s baby awake as it slumbered in the parlor (though there were no Gallup babies at present, there were always bassinets to be found in the vicinity).

Meanwhile, the adults were decorously arranged in the dining room as per Mrs. Gallup’s specifications. Given that there were thirteen of them, only she presided at the head of the table. From there, couples were seated directly across from each other down the line according to her preferred order of precedence: Anna and John, Susan and George, Bess and Henry, Lucy and Fred, Marian and Harold, Fanny and Arthur. Finding himself in between Henry Harper and Harold Hill, Fred couldn’t help reflecting with wry amusement that the men who married the women he’d once wooed both had the initials H.H.

On the women’s side of the table, Lucy was seated in between Marian and Bess, and from what little he could discern over the din, the ladies’ exchange was pleasant and amiable. Meanwhile, on the men’s side, Harold dominated the conversation with his usual wit and aplomb – he’d somehow even managed to coax a smile out of Henry Harper! So Fred allowed himself the luxury of focusing on the excellent meal in front of him. As he started to feel the wonderful stupor of a full belly, he optimistically reflected that they might just manage to get through dinner unscathed, after all…

However, Fred forgot to account for his mother’s insatiable need to be the center of attention. At first, Mrs. Gallup seemed content to simply bask in her glory as hostess, beaming at everyone as they chattered and ate their fill at her delicious table. However, once the children gobbled down their food and raced back outside, and the conversation among the main table ebbed into a pleasant lull, the atmosphere was finally hushed enough for her to make one of her presumptuous declarations:

“Isn’t it lovely to see Fred and Bess gracing our table again, along with their families! It’s a shame we can’t all get together like this more often. But I’m sure now that Freddie is properly married, he and his lovely wife will be coming home much more frequently.” She turned and beamed at Bess. “And I look forward watching to their children play with yours someday!”

Fred nearly choked on the mouthful of buttered peas he was presently swallowing, and Harold was too busy whacking him on the back to provide any verbal volleys in his favor. Lucy stared with silent fury at her pile of gravy-drenched mashed potatoes, while Marian laid a sympathetic hand on her arm.

“What a lovely sentiment,” Bess said, graciously covering for them all. “My children have certainly enjoyed playing with the Hills’ charming daughters.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath for meeting Fred and Lucy’s children,” Susan muttered. “They’ve already been married for three years and absolutely nothing has come of it!”

When the explosion came, it wasn’t from Fred, but Lucy. “That’s it!” she declared, standing up so vehemently that she knocked over her apple cider. As the amber liquid spread across the tablecloth, no one so much as glanced at it, as they were too busy gaping at the actress, who’d rounded on Susan and unleashed the full force of her down-home accent in the course of her blistering reprimand: “I’ve had just about enough of your corn-fed ignorance, you witless worm! If Bess wasn’t sitting between us, I’d slap you right now for speaking so rudely of subjects you don’t know a thing about. If you ever make any more petty insinuations about the size of our family, I _will_ slap you. So take heed – and shut up!”

Susan flushed as red as the cranberry sauce and sputtered incoherently, as though she dearly longed to make an equally witty and scorching speech in return. Lucy glared silently and steadily at her with the unwavering confidence of judge, jury, and executioner all in one, giving the hapless offender every opportunity to attempt a rebuttal before she lowered the ax. But as ever, Fred’s sister was too flummoxed and stupid to be a match for the well-spoken actress. And so, after a few moments of inarticulate and ineffective stammering, Susan snapped her mouth shut and shrank into her chair.

Although the scene had played itself out, everyone continued staring dumbly at the women – even Mrs. Gallup was too overawed to scold Lucy for her indelicacy. The actress was truly in fine form, captivating the audience with her commanding presence just as she did whenever she delivered a Shakespearean monologue to a packed house. But as soon as she spun on her heel and fled the premises, banging the screen door even louder than Fred had the night before, everyone turned to goggle expectantly at _him_.

Fred sighed as he tried to figure out what he should tell them. While Lucy hadn’t entirely spilled the beans as to why the subject of children so nettled her, it was clear from the deeply sympathetic expressions of every woman at the table – excepting his most loathsome sister, who just looked petulant and mortified at having been insulted so publicly and colorfully – they had already put two and two together. And from the awkward but tactful way that nearly every man was suddenly averting their eyes from him, they had also figured it out. Not even Harold could distract everyone from such a juicy revelation; the bombastic music professor was reduced to a useless cypher, a mere witness to the fray. Still, having someone there who was squarely on his side and disconnected from his ludicrous family in a way Fanny or even Bess couldn’t achieve – that is, someone not under his mother’s control in any way – was immensely comforting as he weighed his options.

In the end, the reporter decided that brazen and straightforward honesty was the best course of action. “I hadn’t wanted to tell you all in quite this way, but Lucy and I can’t have children. Before you ask me any questions: yes, I knew this was the case before we married, and no, it didn’t change my mind about marrying her. I’ve never, ever met a woman as perfect for me as she is, and I love her more than anything in the world. ‘Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh.’ Our marriage may be barren, but it is certainly _not_ fruitless.”

After he’d finished making his position on their lack of fecundity crystal clear, Fred glared around the table, challenging anyone to gainsay his proclamation. It was immensely freeing – he hadn’t been this candid with his family in _years_. And to his satisfaction, no one said a word – not even his mother, who looked surprisingly commiserating, if utterly chagrinned, by the news. It probably helped his case that after Lucy’s eloquent display, they suspected he’d likewise have no compunction in unleashing a similarly devastating tongue-lashing on anyone who dared to object to their union. But even if anyone was so foolhardy as to test his mettle, he would stop short of saying that not being able to have children was a benefit as far as he was concerned, as he didn’t wish to insult Harold and Marian, Fanny and Arthur, Bess and Henry, or even Anna and John.

Naturally, Susan said it for him. “We all know you didn’t want any children, anyway.”

To Fred’s shock, Mrs. Gallup stood up, reached across the table, and smartly cuffed her truculent daughter across the cheek. “Hush up, now! Clearly, the Lord did not intend for them to multiply, and who are _you_ to gainsay His will?”

Back when the reporter wrote puff pieces, he covered a lot of zoos and circuses, and his mother’s action reminded him exactly of a lioness disciplining her cub for misbehavior. And so he had to smother a victorious smirk as his sister withered not just under their mother’s steely gaze, but also at her own husband’s disapproving frown and, for good measure, Anna’s censorious tongue-cluck. The whole pride was against her now.

“I’m sorry, mother,” Susan said in the most chastened voice he’d heard from her in a very long time.

Mrs. Gallup still wasn’t satisfied. “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

Now it was Susan’s turn to act like a penitent schoolgirl who was forced to write lines. So she looked at her brother – not quite in the eye, but close enough to convince everybody else of her sincerity – and parroted, “I’m sorry, Fred.”

“I forgive you,” he said graciously, even though he knew as well as she did that this was all just theater. The ill will between them was still there and always would be, but if she was being forced to behave from now on, he would mind his manners, too.

Thankfully, brother and sister’s polished veneer of diplomacy placated their mother. “Well, it’s nice to see you haven’t forgotten everything I’ve taught you, Freddie. But what are you still doing sitting there? Go and bring your wife back home before she catches cold! We’ll keep all the pies nice and warm until your return.”

Deciding to take her cloying condescension as a win, Fred stood up, went straight to the barn, and hitched up the buggy to the horse that looked the swiftest. At best, there was only a little over an hour until sunset, and he didn’t want to be stumbling through desolate cornfields in the dark. Fortunately, he knew where Lucy had probably gone.


	7. The Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally getting back to this story, just in time for Thanksgiving! The balance shifts, this time in Fred’s favor.

_I don’t need you to respect me, I respect me  
I don’t need you to love me, I love me  
But I want you to know you could know me  
If you change your mind  
~Change Your Mind, Steven Universe_

XXX

To Fred’s relief, his first guess was right: Lucy was at the water tower. And to his even greater relief, she looked delighted to see him when he pulled up with the buggy. His next guess as to her whereabouts was the streetcar depot, and he would have been rather upset if that were indeed the case. She’d promised never to run away from him like that again.

When Fred dismounted, his wife immediately flew over to him and threw herself into his arms. As he held her, he said nothing as he assessed her state of being. She’d taken the time to don her coat but not a hat or gloves, her curls were disheveled, her cheeks were alarmingly pink, and her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen.

It was Lucy who finally broke the silence between them. “I’m _so_ embarrassed that I lost my temper like that. Your family probably thinks I’m daft!”

Fred could repress his laughter but not a grin, which he buried in her mussed hair. “You said exactly what needed to be said. I’ve never heard a more eloquent speech – someone ought to embroider it on a quilt!”

Lucy laughed at that, and he was glad to hear it. “Well, I suppose that’s what comes of my last play being the _Merry Wives of Windsor_. Shakespeare was awfully creative when it came to insults. But even so, I’ll always regret the missed opportunity to slap Susan into silence!”

This time, Fred allowed her to witness his mirth. “Well, it might please you to know that my mother slapped her for you, shortly after you left.”

Lucy let out a shocked giggle. “She didn’t!”

He nodded. “She did. My mother likes you, for all that she’s disappointed we’ll never be able to give her grandchildren.”

Lucy’s shoulders slumped. “You had to tell them, didn’t you?”

Fred nodded, this time much more gravely. “They weren’t going to let me go after you until I’d explained things, so I decided I might as well get it over with right then and there.”

Lucy hid her face in the lapels of his coat. “Oh, I _knew_ I shouldn’t have let myself go like that! Even worse – I abandoned you, and I promised I’d never do that again. So I don’t suppose I can blame you for throwing me under the train.”

“Say, now,” he gently admonished. “I didn’t throw you under the train. All my family knows is what they’d already guessed: we can’t have children. I told them no details about your past. But I made it _very_ clear that it didn’t matter to me because I love you more than anything in the world.”

Lucy squeezed him even tighter. “Oh, Fred! I really don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do,” he said firmly. “Granted, it wasn’t the most ideal way for them to find out, but at least my mother’s incessant hints about grandchildren will finally stop.”

“Sure,” she said glumly. “Now she’ll just treat me like I’m a fragile flower, or worse – as if I’m damaged goods because I failed her hopes.” He felt her hands ball into fists as she continued to cling to him. “I can’t _believe_ I let your sister get to me like that! She’s too much like my mother – she knows exactly how to sniff out a person’s weakness and go for the kill.”

“You don’t ever have to see her again,” he promised. “I can arrange for us to stay in the guest house and we’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

With the poise and pride of a Shakespearean queen, Lucy lifted her head high and shook it vehemently. “I may be a coward, but I’m not _that_ spineless! We’ll stay until Saturday, as we originally planned.”

“You owe my sister nothing,” he insisted. “If anything, she owes _you_ an apology – a big one.”

“I know,” she said. “But I refuse to give that witless worm the satisfaction of thinking I’m afraid of her – because I’m most certainly not! If I’m going to shoot my mouth off like that, I can’t slink out of town afterward or it’ll look like I don’t have the courage of my convictions. We’ll stay until Saturday.” She gave him a wan smile. “Besides, your family isn’t entirely intolerable. Fanny’s very kind, Anna’s not too bad, and Bess was lovely. I can see why you had such a difficult time letting her go.”

Fred looked her steadily in the eyes. “I have _never_ loved Bess the way I love you. I hope you know that.”

“I do,” Lucy confirmed. “I could tell by the way you looked at her, like she’s a sister to you.”

Fred pulled her into another hug. As his wife let out a contented sigh and nestled into his arms, he angrily reflected that she should never have had to come by her certainty this way. No matter how gracious his former fiancée was, and no matter how platonic their feelings for each other were, his mother never should have thrown them all together like that. But he supposed that if their marriage could survive his tactless and overbearing family until Saturday rolled around, it could survive anything.

XXX

When Fred entered the vestibule of the Gallup homestead, he did so alone. Harold had intercepted the two of them in the barn upon their return, and cannily offered refuge in the guest house if they weren’t quite ready to rejoin the party yet. Upon reflection, Lucy chose to take him up on this generous proposal, while Fred decided to face the music on his own. It was actually much better this way, as he had a plan to give her a delightful reprieve, and he’d accomplish it a lot more expediently if she wasn’t in the vicinity. In fact, her absence would only bolster his argument that she needed such a nicety.

Indeed, as soon as he stepped foot in the house, his mother and sisters swooped over to him.

“Where’s Lucy?” Mrs. Gallup demanded to know. “Did you find her?”

“Lucy’s just fine,” he assured them, heartened to see Fanny’s and Anna’s relieved expressions and pleased to see Susan’s chastened one. “She’s fatigued from being outside in the cold and recovering in the guest house. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, may we have a tub of hot water brought to our room? A bath always puts her in a much better frame of mind.”

“Of course,” his mother magnanimously granted. “I’ll also brew a pot of chamomile tea – we mustn’t allow her to take ill!”

“Yes, tea would help tremendously,” he said, concealing his surprise that she’d not only agreed to his request so readily, but made additional concessions to enhance her daughter-in-law’s comfort. Given all the work that baths took to procure in this household, she was _never_ this generous about preparing them. But clearly, the lady of the manor was eager to make amends, lest her reputation for being a hospitable hostess be forever tarnished.

Looking self-satisfied once more, Mrs. Gallup turned to her daughters and barked at them to hop to it. When she turned back to Fred, he spoke promptly, lest he lose the upper hand. “Thank you for being so accommodating. I’ll be attending to my wife in the guest house until her bath is ready.”

XXX

When Fred and Lucy finally reached their room, not only was there a warm bath and steaming pot of chamomile tea waiting for them, there were also two heaping slices of blueberry pie. This was a lovely treat indeed, as they’d completely missed dessert.

After ravenously downing their pie, husband and wife disrobed and climbed into the bath together. Thankfully, the tub was large enough to accommodate them both, though it was a snugger fit than they were used to. That didn’t stop them from making love – Lucy’s mouth found his for a delicious, blueberry-tinged kiss that soon turned heated as she straddled his lap and took him into her. It was wonderful to finally have some privacy – unlike when they coupled on the blasted mattress, which broadcast their every single twitch, no one could hear the water sloshing around in the tub as they moved together. And so they luxuriated in their embrace for as long, slow, and sweet as Fred could draw it out before he finally had to come.

“Do you know this is my favorite thing to do with you?” he said as they lay curled together in the sudsy water afterward. While the actress had eagerly welcomed him in her bed shortly after they’d met, it had taken her a lot longer to invite him into her bath. Although they’d often shared tubs together once she did, it was an intimacy that Fred never took for granted.

Lucy laughed – not acerbically, but that sweet, delighted, carefree laugh she always gave him whenever she was well-pleased. “This was _wonderful_ – just what I needed to face the world again.” She scooped a mound of suds into her palms and coquettishly blew bubbles at him. “Perhaps it’s not such a bad thing to be treated like a fragile flower by your family, if it allows us to be together like this during visits!”

XXX

After passing one of the most blissfully insensate nights that he could ever remember spending in his boyhood bedroom, Fred blearily opened an eye to see Lucy regarding him with an impish beam.

“I have a plan for how to handle your family,” she told him.

Fred was immediately intrigued. Opening both eyes, he fixed them intently on hers. “Do tell.”

Her smile widened into a full-fledged grin. “Unfortunately, I can’t tell you everything. But what I can divulge is that I’m going to break down at breakfast and confess the truth about my past. And it will be the truth, but presented in a way that your mother will sympathize with, rather than condemn.”

His brow quirked. “Are you sure that’s wise? I learned early on that my mother can’t be trusted with such damaging information.”

“All good theater has to have an element of honesty to which the audience can connect,” Lucy said staunchly. “Which is why you can’t know the details of what I’m going to say in advance – your reactions have to be as natural as possible for this plan to succeed. And I must remain center stage. Your role in this scene is to be the silent, supportive husband – follow my lead and don’t say anything unless prompted. Can you do that?”

Fred nodded. For her, he could do anything.

“Now, this may not work,” she cautioned. “It all depends on how much your mother truly likes me. I took great care to win her approval for your sake, but now that she knows I can’t give her any grandchildren, her feelings about me may have changed. And if they have, at least we’ll know where we stand after this.” She grimaced. “Christmas will be rather awkward, though.”

“Christmas, _nothing_,” Fred said vehemently. “If things go completely south at breakfast and they mistreat you in any way, we’ll spend the holidays together just the two of us – or with the Hills if they extend the invitation.”

“Really?” Lucy said, looking as if she didn’t dare ask for such a pleasant outcome but desperately hoped for it, all the same.

“You’re my family now,” he reminded her, and pulled her close for a heated kiss.

XXX

The show started as soon as they exited their bedroom. Taking Fred’s arm, Lucy adopted a wounded-gazelle expression and tentative gait as they made their way downstairs. The reporter was so impressed with her demeanor he had to work hard to keep his expression solemn – if he hadn’t known what she was up to, he would have completely fallen for it.

Unsurprisingly, the atmosphere at the breakfast table was rather strained, and only grew more awkward once the reporter and the actress entered the dining room and took their seats. As Fred tucked into the hearty fare, Lucy picked delicately at her food.

Naturally, Mrs. Gallup noticed. “Are you feeling all right this morning, Lucy?”

Lucy burst into tears and buried her face in her hands.

All of the men except Harold immediately excused themselves and fled to the parlor. The women remained right where they were and regarded the actress with alarmed expressions. As Lucy had directed him to be the silent and supportive husband, Fred decided to pretend he was too frozen with concern to move. When Harold looked questioningly at him, he gave the briefest of winks.

Fortunately, the others were too focused on Lucy’s display to note this signal, and Mrs. Gallup was too busy glowering after her daughters’ husbands for their cowardice. When she turned to glare at Fred for his inaction, he presented the perfect picture of alarmed masculine incompetence in the face of a woman weeping.

“Men are so useless!” his mother tutted, and bustled over to her daughter-in-law to hand her a handkerchief.

Accepting the handkerchief with a masterfully quavering smile of appreciation, Lucy dabbed her eyes with it. “Forgive me… I just… after everything that happened at dinner yesterday, I couldn’t help reliving the loss of my dear son… ”

“Oh, you poor thing!” Mrs. Gallup gasped at the revelation. Anna and Fanny likewise made sympathetic clucking noises. Susan looked deeply ashamed of herself, and Fred had to smother a churlish smirk as he reflected that it served her right for being so unkind. Harold and Marian appeared appropriately grave, but the music professor’s eyes danced with merriment as he puzzled out the game that was afoot.

Indeed, Lucy welled up again, though she managed to be poignant rather than melodramatic as she tearfully explained, “I was married once before, and carried a boy to term. But he only lived a single day. Bringing him into the world injured me permanently, so I wasn’t able to have any more children.” She looked penitently at Susan, who squirmed even more uncomfortably. “I apologize for losing my temper yesterday. But it’s been such a heavy cross to bear… ” She buried her face in the handkerchief, and her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

“Not only does Susan accept your apology, she’ll be choosing her words a lot more carefully in the future,” Mrs. Gallup assured her daughter-in-law. “Whenever I had a miscarriage – and I’ve had my share – my mother told me that the Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. But as much as I trust in the Lord, I will _never_ understand why He would deny the gift of motherhood to any woman. You mustn’t blame yourself for what happened. The Lord has simply decided, for reasons we cannot ever know, that motherhood was not to be your path.”

Fred was stunned – those were the most compassionate and understanding words he’d ever heard from his mother in his entire life. So when Lucy lowered her handkerchief and gaped at her mother-in-law as if she was overcome with gratitude, perhaps some of it was genuine. “You’re too kind. When my husband cruelly abandoned me for another woman, I didn’t think I’d ever find a man who’d want me. But then I met Fred.” She looked at the reporter with glistening eyes, as if he was her savior.

Taking her hand in his, Fred did his best to look reassuring without overdoing it. It was difficult not to smile, as she’d never made such an obsequious display of reverence to him in all the time he’d known her.

Fortunately, he didn’t need to vocalize his support, as his mother did it for him. “Yes, my Freddie has always been a champion of the downtrodden,” Mrs. Gallup said proudly. “You poor dear! What was your son’s name?”

Lucy paused for a split second. “Methuselah.”

Fred bit his tongue so he wouldn’t burst into laughter. The inclination had been massing for quite some time as he watched Lucy’s cunning display, but when she assigned that particular name to her child, he nearly couldn’t hold it in. Fortunately, no one else noticed his barely repressed mirth, though he witnessed out of the corner of his eye that Harold and Marian likewise smothering smiles. His sisters continued to regard Lucy with sympathy, though it was clear from the scandalized frown on Susan’s face that she had some decided opinions on such an ironic appellation. Thankfully, she kept her mouth shut and didn’t air any of them.

Lucy determinedly avoided looking at them all. “I know Methuselah must sound absolutely ghastly, but it was a cherished family namesake.”

If Mrs. Gallup had any misgivings about this explanation, she didn’t show them. “Nonsense! Methuselah is a fine, strong name for a boy… even if it is such a terrible pity he didn’t have the gumption to live up to his namesake. But dear little Methuselah will be waiting for his mother in heaven until she joins him. Now, let’s dry those tears and finish up your breakfast. You can’t afford not to eat – you’re skin and bones as it is!”

After dutifully complying with Mrs. Gallup’s mother-henning, Lucy announced that she needed to lie down. Fred quickly leaped up to join her. As they made their way to the stairs, he whispered to Harold that Marian should play something on the piano straightaway. Shortly afterward, just as the reporter and actress reached the second-floor landing, the librarian started in on a rousing, galloping Rachmaninoff piece with a great deal of showy arpeggios.

Once their bedroom door was safely closed behind them, Lucy burst into exuberant laughter and elbowed Fred. “You _bastard_ – you almost ruined the whole thing!”

Fred couldn’t help laughing along with her. “I know, I’m sorry. But – _Methuselah_?”

“Well, they can’t all be brilliant!” Lucy tutted. “It was the first biblical name I could think of on the fly. When I was racking my brains for one, all I could hear in my head was the blasted phrase ‘old as Methuselah’ even though it would have been the cruelest of names to give to a child! But I had to say _something_, because as long as she lives, your mother is going to be commiserating with me over my loss. I couldn’t bear hearing my son’s true name coming from her mouth, so she doesn’t get to know it. And this way, whenever she starts going on about how tragic it was that ‘dear little Methuselah’ was taken so swiftly, I can pretend she’s talking about someone else entirely!”

“You are so damn brilliant,” he said admiringly.

“Yes… but it’s a pity I had to make Susan into the black sheep to pull this plan off,” she mused. “She won’t live her blunder down for quite a while!”

“Susan deserves exactly what she gets,” Fred averred. “She didn’t have to say those nasty things. We all had the same mother, but Fanny’s been nothing but decent and even Anna wouldn’t stoop _that_ low. So Susan has no excuse for her bad behavior.”

Lucy laughed. “I know there’s no love lost between the two of you and that she’s a loathsome little worm, but she’s not the true villain in this tale – if your mother hadn’t been so preachy about children in the first place, your sister wouldn’t have felt she could say such horrid things with impunity. It just goes to show that people never realize the full effect of their detestable prejudices on their own offspring. And quite honestly, I’m not so sure I wouldn’t be doing similar damage if I was to have children of my own.”

Although the subject of parenting was merely academic for them, Fred hated to hear her running herself down like that. “With that level of insight, you’d be a much better mother than you credit yourself.”

Lucy smiled wistfully. “Well, we’ll never know. And I love the life we’ve built together as tumbleweeds, blowing from place to place together, too much to ever give it up.”

“So do I,” Fred agreed, smiling just as wistfully at her in return. Though neither of them was inclined to parenthood, he would have welcomed any children they had as a natural consequence of their passion, should that have been a possibility. He suspected a kid or two might just find a home with them someday – not through childbirth, but through fostering, for there was bound to be a few nephews and nieces who were longing to escape a farmer’s fate in Charleston when they got a little older. And who better for them to turn to than the devoted uncle and aunt who forged the path to freedom?

But for now, such possibilities were distant, and their only responsibility was to each other. So Fred pulled Lucy to lie down with him and they made love, confident that no one could hear the creaks of the bed or the intensity of their moans over the loud piano music suffusing the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucy’s unvarnished past, her son’s true name, and her complicated feelings about motherhood were previously explored in chapters [five](https://archiveofourown.org/works/523112/chapters/3218453#workskin) and [six](https://archiveofourown.org/works/523112/chapters/3218612) of [Triumph of the Early Bird](https://archiveofourown.org/works/523112/chapters/925371).


End file.
